Today is the big day - Paul's first day of preschool - and I must say I'm a bundle of nerves. Here's why. Any hopes I had of him overcoming his fears were dashed Friday morning when we headed to moms' group at church. I've mentioned before that ever since Ben hasn't been with him there, he has been fearful. I did my best to prep him for it, and though he did protest a bit, I figured that he would cry some and then be OK. But as soon as we set foot in the door, he began to not cry, but sob. Snot-running-out-of-his-nose, heaving sobs. "Mommy, don't go!" he wailed. I did my best to calm him, though that really wasn't possible in his thoroughly panicked state. So I made for the door in the hopes that he would work it out and be OK, as he has done in the past. No sooner did I close the door than he opened the door and threw himself at my feet, begging me not to leave. It was at that point I decided we needed to leave.
Utterly bereft, I trudged into the house and began to look for articles on preschool separation anxiety. Of course many kids his age have it. Many of the others at church cried on Friday, though Paul's display certainly was the most, er, colorful. In my readings, I discovered that I did a lot of things wrong. That's nothing new for me. Don't sneak out, one expert implored, it's dishonest and it's only easier for you, not them. Did that. Don't bribe or offer rewards, another said. Did that. Don't cave in and take the child home, or he will think crying works. Oh, dear. I was beginning to lose hope for him and for me. I did find some tips that I hope will work for today. Often it works better for someone besides the mother to drop off the child, hence Mark taking Paul today. Also I let him choose a small toy to keep in his pocket as a security object.
Many wise people have reminded me that this is a phase, that just as all children one day will be potty trained, they all will go to school and do fine. I guess the hardest part for me is seeing him so scared, so upset. And underneath it all is a kernel of doubt in my mind. Sometimes the worry is simmering, others seemingly boiling over. Am I doing this right? Did I do something to cause him to be like this? I question my very decision to be a stay-at-home mom. Has it left Paul ill-prepared to face these challenges? I don't know the answers.
In preparation for today, we've been reading the children's book The Kissing Hand by Audrey Penn. It taps right into the anxiety that children and parents alike feel on the first day of school. In it the mama raccoon places a kiss on young Chester's palm and promises that whenever he misses his mom, he will be able to put his palm to his cheek and feel his mother's love (Mama loves you, Mama loves you). By the end of the book when Chester plants his own kiss on his mom's hand and she puts it to her cheek and hears "Chester loves you, Chester loves you," I was a sobbing mess myself, but Paul was smiling. So we'll try it today and hope that it gets us both through.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
This one's for you, G
So I'm a little late on writing down my thoughts on Gus's first birthday. What a wonderful, challenging year it was. When I saw Gus's little face on the 20-week ultrasound picture and heard the words "It's a boy," I felt instantly that it was right, that three boys was exactly what we should have. My heart swelled with an enormous wave of love and affection for my boy. Finally I saw him, the actual him, for the first time. He was what the nurses called "a good size," though he looked tiny to me, and he had abundant black hair. I adored my beautiful little boy, and I couldn't wait to bring him home to his brothers and start our life together.
After semi-successfully shepherding two boys through babyhood, I knew bringing up our third wouldn't be easy, but I was confident we would be up for the challenge. Gus, however, decided to give us a surprise. By the time he was a month old, he was extremely fussy during the evening hours, seemingly impossible to soothe during his spells. We made it, though, and the hardship made it all the sweeter when at 4 months the fussiness was flipped off like a switch and he became a delightful, mellow baby.
By about seven months, it became clear that he would walk in the footsteps of his brother, Ben (who walked at 9 months), literally. He quickly found a way to get around, first commando-style, then hands and knees, and finally, at 10 months, walking. He now has the dangerous combination of Ben's curiosity and early mobility and the reckless adventurous streak of 1-year-old Paul. He's an explorer. A climber. Fearless. This ensures that I'm never far behind and nearly never at rest. Thank goodness that with all of this, he still likes to take many breaks for a snuggle with his mom. I love you, my boy. Happy birthday.
After semi-successfully shepherding two boys through babyhood, I knew bringing up our third wouldn't be easy, but I was confident we would be up for the challenge. Gus, however, decided to give us a surprise. By the time he was a month old, he was extremely fussy during the evening hours, seemingly impossible to soothe during his spells. We made it, though, and the hardship made it all the sweeter when at 4 months the fussiness was flipped off like a switch and he became a delightful, mellow baby.
By about seven months, it became clear that he would walk in the footsteps of his brother, Ben (who walked at 9 months), literally. He quickly found a way to get around, first commando-style, then hands and knees, and finally, at 10 months, walking. He now has the dangerous combination of Ben's curiosity and early mobility and the reckless adventurous streak of 1-year-old Paul. He's an explorer. A climber. Fearless. This ensures that I'm never far behind and nearly never at rest. Thank goodness that with all of this, he still likes to take many breaks for a snuggle with his mom. I love you, my boy. Happy birthday.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
A classic Ceman family vacation
My family loves to reminisce about vacations we took when I was a kid. A great many of those include memories of minor disasters that almost always seemed to accompany us. Take the time that my parents had tethered Sean's and my sleeping bags to the top of the car, and they rolled away into oblivion before we reached my grandpa's cabin in Drummond, WI. Or the time when we were driving home from Drummond and a garbage bag full of dirty laundry fell out of the car top carrier and my parents were pulled over for suspicion of improper disposal of garbage.
Of course anyone who knows my family knows that car troubles far and away made up most of our vacation maladies. Driving to my Grandma Flaherty's in Chicago or to Drummond, more often than not something went wrong. Legend has it that Sean was able to diagnose car troubles at the tender age of 8 ("Dad, I think we threw a rod again"). One memorable time the station wagon broke down in Merrill. We needed a mechanic to look at it, but we had to wait for some hours because he was at the Hodag festival along with everyone else in town. No lie.
For all of these reasons, it's ironic that I have any kind of expectations for vacation at all. My mom and I spent hours on the internet last winter searching for a vacation spot. It needed to be waterfront and able to accomodate our large group. Finally we settled on a pretty-looking place in Amery. It would be a long trip but worth it, we were sure. After visiting Mark's brother and sister-in-law in Minnesota, my family and I arrived first. It quickly became clear that the place was not exactly as advertised. The outside was decidedly not well-maintained. Soon we ventured down to the "water" and discovered that the lake actually was a weedy marsh. Despite some lacking qualities, the inside of the place, overall, turned out to be fairly nice, but the absence of water stung.
It didn't take long for hijinx to begin. Wednesday night Mark and I were cooking dinner. Mark went to start the grill and, no big surprise here, it was out of gas and home to some kind of nest. I sighed deeply and preheated the oven and returned to the basement. Twenty minutes later I went upstairs to put the food in the oven. Smoke and the smell of burning plastic were coming from a burner on the stove. Unbeknownst to me, in a bit of morning chaos, my mom had stuck a washer game (a kind of lawn game) in the oven to get it out of the way. Foolish me. I was laboring under the silly assumption that I would not find a lawn game in the oven. Miraculously, the game was only mildly charred, and dinner made it to the table without further incident.
Wednesday and Thursday were terrible weather days. Rain fell in sheets, and the sky stayed a depressing color of gray sun up to sun down. The kids were acting up, and I felt desperate to get out of the house. Friday started out the same way. However, when a break in the rain came, we decided to venture outside and hope for the best. I'm so happy we did. We headed to Interstate State Park. The weather turned warm and sunny, and Ben, Paul, Kelan and Gus finally got a chance to frolick in the water and play in the sand. Suddenly it all felt worth it.
We've vowed to start early to research and find an ideal place for next summer's vacation. No doubt it, too, will contain some unwanted surprises. No matter what happens, though, we'll always have our memories and funny stories.
Of course anyone who knows my family knows that car troubles far and away made up most of our vacation maladies. Driving to my Grandma Flaherty's in Chicago or to Drummond, more often than not something went wrong. Legend has it that Sean was able to diagnose car troubles at the tender age of 8 ("Dad, I think we threw a rod again"). One memorable time the station wagon broke down in Merrill. We needed a mechanic to look at it, but we had to wait for some hours because he was at the Hodag festival along with everyone else in town. No lie.
For all of these reasons, it's ironic that I have any kind of expectations for vacation at all. My mom and I spent hours on the internet last winter searching for a vacation spot. It needed to be waterfront and able to accomodate our large group. Finally we settled on a pretty-looking place in Amery. It would be a long trip but worth it, we were sure. After visiting Mark's brother and sister-in-law in Minnesota, my family and I arrived first. It quickly became clear that the place was not exactly as advertised. The outside was decidedly not well-maintained. Soon we ventured down to the "water" and discovered that the lake actually was a weedy marsh. Despite some lacking qualities, the inside of the place, overall, turned out to be fairly nice, but the absence of water stung.
It didn't take long for hijinx to begin. Wednesday night Mark and I were cooking dinner. Mark went to start the grill and, no big surprise here, it was out of gas and home to some kind of nest. I sighed deeply and preheated the oven and returned to the basement. Twenty minutes later I went upstairs to put the food in the oven. Smoke and the smell of burning plastic were coming from a burner on the stove. Unbeknownst to me, in a bit of morning chaos, my mom had stuck a washer game (a kind of lawn game) in the oven to get it out of the way. Foolish me. I was laboring under the silly assumption that I would not find a lawn game in the oven. Miraculously, the game was only mildly charred, and dinner made it to the table without further incident.
Wednesday and Thursday were terrible weather days. Rain fell in sheets, and the sky stayed a depressing color of gray sun up to sun down. The kids were acting up, and I felt desperate to get out of the house. Friday started out the same way. However, when a break in the rain came, we decided to venture outside and hope for the best. I'm so happy we did. We headed to Interstate State Park. The weather turned warm and sunny, and Ben, Paul, Kelan and Gus finally got a chance to frolick in the water and play in the sand. Suddenly it all felt worth it.
We've vowed to start early to research and find an ideal place for next summer's vacation. No doubt it, too, will contain some unwanted surprises. No matter what happens, though, we'll always have our memories and funny stories.
Friday, August 7, 2009
He just may
Ask Ben what he would like to be when he grows up, and his answer is the same that many boys probably give: a professional baseball player, more specifically, a Milwaukee Brewer. Typically I like to have a little laugh about that because, sorry to drag you into this, Mark, between our contributing genes we don't exactly bring a lot of athletic prowess. What I remember most about my middle school gym days is my classmates shouting, "Come on Ceman, hit the ball!" in a not-so-supportive way while playing my most-hated sport, volleyball.
But Ben never ceases to surprise me. This summer he was determined to play in a coach-pitch baseball league rather than tee ball. Though he was younger than most of his team by a year or more, for the aforementioned reasons, I was surprised to see him hold his own. Last week we took the boys to the annual Menasha Park & Rec summer scamper. Ben had taken first place in his age group the year before and very much wanted to again. The race began, and Ben was neck and neck with a girl from his class at school. I tried to cheer, but every time I watch him perform, I get choked up. He overtook the lead and emerged victorious. (Check out the video: http://benpaulandgus.shutterfly.com/393). Now, I know this is just a small race, but it says a lot about Ben. Whatever the challenge, he brings his unique blend of confidence and determination. (After the race, my dad reported that Ben told him, "Not only am I really smart, I'm also really fast!) A Milwaukee Brewer someday? Maybe so.
But Ben never ceases to surprise me. This summer he was determined to play in a coach-pitch baseball league rather than tee ball. Though he was younger than most of his team by a year or more, for the aforementioned reasons, I was surprised to see him hold his own. Last week we took the boys to the annual Menasha Park & Rec summer scamper. Ben had taken first place in his age group the year before and very much wanted to again. The race began, and Ben was neck and neck with a girl from his class at school. I tried to cheer, but every time I watch him perform, I get choked up. He overtook the lead and emerged victorious. (Check out the video: http://benpaulandgus.shutterfly.com/393). Now, I know this is just a small race, but it says a lot about Ben. Whatever the challenge, he brings his unique blend of confidence and determination. (After the race, my dad reported that Ben told him, "Not only am I really smart, I'm also really fast!) A Milwaukee Brewer someday? Maybe so.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
His anxiety is making me anxious
Separation anxiety. Paul's got it bad. This is new territory for me. From a young age, Ben never had a problem with saying sayonara to me. While sometimes that gave me pause (hey, Ben, you could be at least a little sad!), Ben's freedom seeking was much preferable to the situation I'm in now. It started in fall when I brought him to the church nursery for child care during my Friday moms' group. He would sob and carry on in the car all the way to church. Once I got him in and snuck out of the room, he always settled down fairly quickly.
It's gotten worse. I signed him up for vacation bible school in June, thinking there was maybe a 30 percent chance that he would finish out the week. Nothing doing. About an hour after I dropped him off, I got the call: "Is this Paul's mom? Yeah, he's been crying since you left. You should probably come get him." In the time it took me to get there, they moved Paul into Ben's classroom, and, no surprise, he was just fine. However, after that first day, I considered VBS a failed experiment. It was then that my anxiety began to set in about how hard it would to send him to preschool in the fall. It's only two hours a day twice a week, but I'm picturing panic, kicking and screaming.
Unbelievably, the situation has declined further since June. We went to Great America a couple weeks ago. He would only go on rides if I could ride with him. And I'm talking the tamest of kiddie rides: little boats and helicopters, rides he has gone without pause plenty of times at Bay Beach. When I tried to cajole him into going on the boats with Ben, he planted his feet and threw his body to the ground as if I were threatening to tie him up and strap him into the scariest ride in the park. Sleeping over at Grandma and Grandpa Ceman's house always has been a favorite treat for Ben and Paul. Lately Paul has been getting crying when Mark and I try to leave. Movie, popcorn and treats usually fixes that pretty quickly, but still.
I know this is a phase that will pass as quickly as it came. Someday I'm sure he will be fully independent and I will look back on this time and wish he were a little more like he was. (I can picture me throwing myself at Paul's feet when he leaves for college: Paulie, don't leave me!) Until then, I've decided this much: Mark is bringing Paul to the first day of preschool.
It's gotten worse. I signed him up for vacation bible school in June, thinking there was maybe a 30 percent chance that he would finish out the week. Nothing doing. About an hour after I dropped him off, I got the call: "Is this Paul's mom? Yeah, he's been crying since you left. You should probably come get him." In the time it took me to get there, they moved Paul into Ben's classroom, and, no surprise, he was just fine. However, after that first day, I considered VBS a failed experiment. It was then that my anxiety began to set in about how hard it would to send him to preschool in the fall. It's only two hours a day twice a week, but I'm picturing panic, kicking and screaming.
Unbelievably, the situation has declined further since June. We went to Great America a couple weeks ago. He would only go on rides if I could ride with him. And I'm talking the tamest of kiddie rides: little boats and helicopters, rides he has gone without pause plenty of times at Bay Beach. When I tried to cajole him into going on the boats with Ben, he planted his feet and threw his body to the ground as if I were threatening to tie him up and strap him into the scariest ride in the park. Sleeping over at Grandma and Grandpa Ceman's house always has been a favorite treat for Ben and Paul. Lately Paul has been getting crying when Mark and I try to leave. Movie, popcorn and treats usually fixes that pretty quickly, but still.
I know this is a phase that will pass as quickly as it came. Someday I'm sure he will be fully independent and I will look back on this time and wish he were a little more like he was. (I can picture me throwing myself at Paul's feet when he leaves for college: Paulie, don't leave me!) Until then, I've decided this much: Mark is bringing Paul to the first day of preschool.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Orally fixated
I know all kids Gus's age go through a phase of putting things in their mouths, but I've never seen a child quite like Gus. Keeping a vigilant eye and preventing those chubby little mitts from inserting junk into that cute mouth of his is a full-time job.
Foolishly, I had pictured the idyllic summer I would spend with the boys enjoying the beauty of the outdoors. I would be able to lead Ben and Paul in fun and enriching activities while Gus sat closeby and amused himself quietly. Of course, as soon as summer began my little fantasy went the way of my idea of what being a stay-at-home mom would be like (unlimited reserves of patience, leading in the kids in fun craft projects - I lose it almost daily and stink at crafts). What I had not imagined was that Gus would be walking already and that I would have to spend much of my time chasing him and trying to wrench contraband from his hands. Pebbles, grass, sand, mulch, you name it, he's tried to consume it. It's pretty sad when to get a respite I set him in the sandbox with the thought that him eating a small handful of sand or two isn't as bad as the possibility of him swallowing a stone. What really scares me is knowing how many outdoor plants and flowers are poisonous.
Inside is easier but not by much. One of Gus's many talents is the ability to quickly locate the smallest item in a room and stuff it into his gob. Certainly it doesn't help that he has older brothers who have toys with small pieces. But that I can manage fairly well. The biggest inside battle is paper. He can rip it up and get in his mouth in record time. Many times a day I catch sight of his little jaws masticating and it is time again to go on a fishing expedition to remove bits of paper and other junk.
The only thing that gets me through is his naptime and the fact that this too shall pass - someday. During my little breaks, I rest up and prepare again for mouth watch.
Foolishly, I had pictured the idyllic summer I would spend with the boys enjoying the beauty of the outdoors. I would be able to lead Ben and Paul in fun and enriching activities while Gus sat closeby and amused himself quietly. Of course, as soon as summer began my little fantasy went the way of my idea of what being a stay-at-home mom would be like (unlimited reserves of patience, leading in the kids in fun craft projects - I lose it almost daily and stink at crafts). What I had not imagined was that Gus would be walking already and that I would have to spend much of my time chasing him and trying to wrench contraband from his hands. Pebbles, grass, sand, mulch, you name it, he's tried to consume it. It's pretty sad when to get a respite I set him in the sandbox with the thought that him eating a small handful of sand or two isn't as bad as the possibility of him swallowing a stone. What really scares me is knowing how many outdoor plants and flowers are poisonous.
Inside is easier but not by much. One of Gus's many talents is the ability to quickly locate the smallest item in a room and stuff it into his gob. Certainly it doesn't help that he has older brothers who have toys with small pieces. But that I can manage fairly well. The biggest inside battle is paper. He can rip it up and get in his mouth in record time. Many times a day I catch sight of his little jaws masticating and it is time again to go on a fishing expedition to remove bits of paper and other junk.
The only thing that gets me through is his naptime and the fact that this too shall pass - someday. During my little breaks, I rest up and prepare again for mouth watch.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
The swift passage of time
I'm not one to cry easily, but there's nothing like watching one of my kids perform to get the waterworks going. So if you hear sniffling while watching Ben's dance routine on the last day of kindergarten, that's probably me. (Check out the video on our share site: http://benpaulandgus.shutterfly.com/237. That's Ben in the straw hat and plaid shirt.) The day was an emotional one for me. Yes, I'm delighted to have a whole summer to spend with all three of my boys. But this milestone was a reminder for me of how quickly time passes. Sure, Ben's first day of kindergarten was a tearjerker, and I had the added benefit of fresh post-pregnancy hormones to spur along the sorrow of turning my firstborn over to the school system. This last day of school took on a whole different poignancy. How is it that I have an almost-7-year-old sleeping in the bed down the hall from me? It doesn't seem possible. Ben has morphed into a considerate, intelligent, creative kid. It is a privilege to watch him grow.
Now it seems that Ben's little brothers are hot on his heels. In this house, it seems that we're always on the verge of some milestone. Paulie will start preschool in the fall. Gus is almost walking and will turn 1 in less than two months. My baby! I guess my only choice is to sit back and enjoy the ride. And cry at the appropriate times. Sniffle.
Now it seems that Ben's little brothers are hot on his heels. In this house, it seems that we're always on the verge of some milestone. Paulie will start preschool in the fall. Gus is almost walking and will turn 1 in less than two months. My baby! I guess my only choice is to sit back and enjoy the ride. And cry at the appropriate times. Sniffle.
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