Over the years of Gus's life, I could thank him at various times for making our lives more unpredictable, fun, hilarious, but I could never say my little handful made my life easier. Until now. Ben, Paul and Gus started summer school last Monday, and they're off to a great start. I feel a huge sense of relief that Gus has transitioned so easily to his Monday through Thursday early learners class. The hour and 40 minutes of having all three boys in an activity has been a heavenly break for me.
Ever since enrolling in Gus in preschool for the fall, I've felt a lingering anxiety about how it was going to go. It was sort of on a whim that I decided to sign up my youngest for summer school. I thought it would be nice to have G in an activity a couple days a week. I thought maybe a playground group through Park & Rec, but none of the times aligned with when Ben and Paul would be in summer school, and yes, I wanted that coveted small space of time to myself. I was skeptical about summer school for Gus. He meets the age requirement, but with an August 18 birthday, he'll only be 3 for the entirety of the class, certainly one of the younger children if not the youngest. And he's not exactly, you know, mature for his age. I went for it, though, and hoped for the best.
The first day I picked up Gus, I asked Mrs. Van Beek with more than a little apprehension, "How did he do?" "Great!" she said. It's such a treat it is to watch Gus go to school each morning (and not just because of the alone time it affords me). He starts each day with a huge grin on his face, going into his classroom with enthusiasm. He gives me a quick hug and kiss before I leave and happily joins his class.
The easy time Gus is giving me is all the sweeter after spending years working through Paul's enormous separation anxiety. (Paul's still that way, though at least not with temper tantrums anymore, thank God.) I watched one day last week as a harried mom of a boy in Gus's class tried to coax her sobbing son into the classroom. I felt a mix of empathy (been there!) and relief (I'm so happy that's not me anymore). So thank you, Gus, for making it so easy for me. I think now I can even let myself stop worrying about preschool in the fall. Now that's a big gift.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
The vacation curse continues
When I was a kid, car-related calamities chronically beset our family vacations. Reliably, it seemed about every other time we took a trip to my grandpa's cottage or my grandma's house in Chicago, something went wrong with one of our classic beaters. This left my parents to struggle to remedy the situation while simultaneously dealing with whiny, crabby kids.
Now raising my own kids, it seems we are similarly cursed, only with a different affliction: illness. These days, my kids don't get sick especially often, but they seem to have a knack for catching bugs right as we're about to embark on a trip or go to a family gathering. The situation is rarely simple: a raging fever or profuse vomiting that says unequivocally, no, do not do this. No, most often it's a mild illness lying in wait, maybe threatening to become more serious. It always feels like a catch-22. If we proceed with our plans and hope for the best, the worst inevitably occurs. If we nix our plans everything will turn out just fine and we'll be smacking our foreheads at our over-cautiousness, disappointing the kids for nothing. Scrapping long-made plans is a hard decision.
Take for example the time we went ahead and took our Christmas trip to Chicago despite the fact that both Ben and Paul had had stomach flu in the past several days. We knew we were playing a game of Russian Roulette, but we felt really torn about canceling our trip. And we shot ourselves in the head. Gus began vomiting the night we arrived, and hours later Mark and I succumbed, spending a night of pure hell in our hotel room, Gus screaming, moaning and groaning all night long, Mark and I feeling increasingly awful.
The curse struck again this past weekend. Gus had had diarrhea most of last week. Thursday night he vomited. We were supposed to leave Friday afternoon for a weekend trip to Jellystone Campground in Fort Atkinson with Mark's family. Believe me, I seriously pondered staying home with Gus. But like I said, it's not an easy choice to make. The Thiel family spent a long time just hashing out a weekend that would work, and some members of Mark's family we don't get to see more than two or three times a year. We really wanted to be able to go with all of us.
Gus seemed to be doing better Friday morning. He didn't vomit anymore and was eating normally. Reluctantly, we set forth. By the time we stopped for lunch in Waupun, things weren't looking great. Gus was droopy and not eating much. He lay on the bench at Culver's looking unwell. Foolishly though, on we pressed. It was more of the same for G after we arrived at the campground. He asked to go to sleep before 7 p.m. - extremely uncharacteristic for him. He went right to bed and we got in a few of hours of visiting. When Mark brought Paul up to the sleeping loft for bed at about 10:15, he smelled something foul and immediately realized Gus had vomited. All over my brother- and sister-in-law's bedding and air mattress.
Feeling that we had no choice, we decided to pack Gus into the car and drive home at 11 p.m. We left Ben and Paul, and Mark planned to return early Saturday morning. We rolled into the driveway completely exhausted at 1 a.m. Luckily, Mark and the boys were able to salvage the rest of the weekend while Gus and I recuperated at home.
I think I've finally learned my lesson. We'll be erring on the side of caution from now on. At this point, head-smacking at home is looking much better than cleaning up vomit in the middle of the night in a strange place.
Now raising my own kids, it seems we are similarly cursed, only with a different affliction: illness. These days, my kids don't get sick especially often, but they seem to have a knack for catching bugs right as we're about to embark on a trip or go to a family gathering. The situation is rarely simple: a raging fever or profuse vomiting that says unequivocally, no, do not do this. No, most often it's a mild illness lying in wait, maybe threatening to become more serious. It always feels like a catch-22. If we proceed with our plans and hope for the best, the worst inevitably occurs. If we nix our plans everything will turn out just fine and we'll be smacking our foreheads at our over-cautiousness, disappointing the kids for nothing. Scrapping long-made plans is a hard decision.
Take for example the time we went ahead and took our Christmas trip to Chicago despite the fact that both Ben and Paul had had stomach flu in the past several days. We knew we were playing a game of Russian Roulette, but we felt really torn about canceling our trip. And we shot ourselves in the head. Gus began vomiting the night we arrived, and hours later Mark and I succumbed, spending a night of pure hell in our hotel room, Gus screaming, moaning and groaning all night long, Mark and I feeling increasingly awful.
The curse struck again this past weekend. Gus had had diarrhea most of last week. Thursday night he vomited. We were supposed to leave Friday afternoon for a weekend trip to Jellystone Campground in Fort Atkinson with Mark's family. Believe me, I seriously pondered staying home with Gus. But like I said, it's not an easy choice to make. The Thiel family spent a long time just hashing out a weekend that would work, and some members of Mark's family we don't get to see more than two or three times a year. We really wanted to be able to go with all of us.
Gus seemed to be doing better Friday morning. He didn't vomit anymore and was eating normally. Reluctantly, we set forth. By the time we stopped for lunch in Waupun, things weren't looking great. Gus was droopy and not eating much. He lay on the bench at Culver's looking unwell. Foolishly though, on we pressed. It was more of the same for G after we arrived at the campground. He asked to go to sleep before 7 p.m. - extremely uncharacteristic for him. He went right to bed and we got in a few of hours of visiting. When Mark brought Paul up to the sleeping loft for bed at about 10:15, he smelled something foul and immediately realized Gus had vomited. All over my brother- and sister-in-law's bedding and air mattress.
Feeling that we had no choice, we decided to pack Gus into the car and drive home at 11 p.m. We left Ben and Paul, and Mark planned to return early Saturday morning. We rolled into the driveway completely exhausted at 1 a.m. Luckily, Mark and the boys were able to salvage the rest of the weekend while Gus and I recuperated at home.
I think I've finally learned my lesson. We'll be erring on the side of caution from now on. At this point, head-smacking at home is looking much better than cleaning up vomit in the middle of the night in a strange place.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Time to move on
Well, friends, I have to say I was disappointed with the recall results last night. My worst worries came to fruition - a big Republican win that Walker would see as a mandate. I never had a good feeling about Barrett's odds. It seemed that recall organizers put all this effort into getting the signatures, but then it all somehow fizzled when it came to putting forth a strong candidate.
At first, my frustration manifested itself in a sort of perverse desire to go on the Post-Crescent message boards and see what people were saying, even though I knew it would further deflate my spirits. I was certain a lot of people would be writing to crow about Walker's victory, but yet I couldn't keep myself from venturing out there. I promise myself multiple times a week I'll stay off comments sections, but it's an addiction with me. I need some kind of help.
As expected, a lot of people, on both sides, were making snide comments. A big part of me wanted to respond to each and every person I'd deemed offensive. Thankfully, I stopped myself and realized it was time to take one giant step back, because what good does firing back ever do? After the initial rush of making a snappy comment, all that ever remains is my own anger and resentment.
Anyway, as I began to read people's comments further, a handful, again on both sides, were expressing sentiments similar to what I was feeling, namely a readiness to move on and a hope that opposing sides could reach out and find a way to work together. That may sound ridiculously Pollyanaish, but what is the alternative? The people of Wisconsin have spoken, and they've sided with Walker. I'm going to pin my hopes that some kind of renewed spirit of compromise will come from all this.
I read that Walker was gracious in his victory, that he said he was committed to working with opponents. I mightily hope that's the case. I'm trying to move beyond this now. I always think it's ridiculous when some pundit or politician says that if so-and-so is elected, it will be ruinous for the country, state, whatever. The election didn't turn out the way I'd hoped, but that's not a disaster. Americans have a great way of self-correcting the direction of the government when it veers too far to the right or left (thanks for that soundbite, NPR!). Above all, I am profoundly grateful that this recall election is over. Oh, and I have faith that Wisconsin will continue to move Forward.
At first, my frustration manifested itself in a sort of perverse desire to go on the Post-Crescent message boards and see what people were saying, even though I knew it would further deflate my spirits. I was certain a lot of people would be writing to crow about Walker's victory, but yet I couldn't keep myself from venturing out there. I promise myself multiple times a week I'll stay off comments sections, but it's an addiction with me. I need some kind of help.
As expected, a lot of people, on both sides, were making snide comments. A big part of me wanted to respond to each and every person I'd deemed offensive. Thankfully, I stopped myself and realized it was time to take one giant step back, because what good does firing back ever do? After the initial rush of making a snappy comment, all that ever remains is my own anger and resentment.
Anyway, as I began to read people's comments further, a handful, again on both sides, were expressing sentiments similar to what I was feeling, namely a readiness to move on and a hope that opposing sides could reach out and find a way to work together. That may sound ridiculously Pollyanaish, but what is the alternative? The people of Wisconsin have spoken, and they've sided with Walker. I'm going to pin my hopes that some kind of renewed spirit of compromise will come from all this.
I read that Walker was gracious in his victory, that he said he was committed to working with opponents. I mightily hope that's the case. I'm trying to move beyond this now. I always think it's ridiculous when some pundit or politician says that if so-and-so is elected, it will be ruinous for the country, state, whatever. The election didn't turn out the way I'd hoped, but that's not a disaster. Americans have a great way of self-correcting the direction of the government when it veers too far to the right or left (thanks for that soundbite, NPR!). Above all, I am profoundly grateful that this recall election is over. Oh, and I have faith that Wisconsin will continue to move Forward.
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