Halloween 2007

Here, a mere 11 months late, are our Halloween pictures from last year. On the plus side, Joe really hasn’t grown much since these were taken: he’s just now outgrowing the last of his 18-month clothes. So, just imagine a bit more hair (he’s overdue for a trim), and you’ll more or less have an accurate mental picture of where he is now.

Joe’s First Haircut

We’re still playing catchup, so here’s a small set of photos of Joseph’s first haircut, such as it was. His hair came in much sooner on the sides and in back that it did on top and in front, so we ended up having to give him a little trim even though he didn’t actually have that much hair to begin with.

Yosemite

Well, we’re on the brink of falling a year behind on posting photos, so it’s about time we put something up. Here are the pictures we took while my parents were in town last September. They took us on a one-night trip to Yosemite, the first hotel stay for Julia and Joseph. It played out pretty much exactly as you might imagine it would: neither child did a spectacularly good job of going to sleep with us in the room. Joe cried for what seemed like hours—he was just over a year old, remember, and didn’t understand why he couldn’t sleep in bed with Mommy—and Julia was completely wired. Julie ended up driving Joe around darkened mountain roads to get him to go to sleep, while I stayed in the room with Julia and threatened to tie her to her bed.

In any event, the scars have just about healed, so we’re almost ready for another trip.

Junior K

We haven’t posted in a while, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t say something about the latest transition in Julia’s life. As of yesterday, she’s officially done with preschool and is happily ensconced in “Junior K,” which is a kind of Kindergarten prep course offered by the private daycare / school she’s been in since Julie went back to work. The theory is that it’s a somewhat more structured, classroom-oriented environment than the one at the preschool, which will help ease the transition to real Kindergarten next year.

A lot of people we’ve talked to about this have scoffed at the idea, and not without reason, but we’re hoping it’ll be a good step for Julia. In particular, I’m optimistic that the slightly more classroom-like environment will keep her interested and engaged and possibly push her a bit harder than she would be on the normal pre-K track; I think she behaves better when she’s challenged. We’ll see how things pan out.

That aside, this is a pretty big change for Julia. We still drop her off at the preschool on Lincoln near our house, but at 8:00 she’s bused over to a different campus where the Junior K class meets. Then, at the end of the day, she’s loaded back into a van and trucked back to Lincoln, where we pick her up.

We actually dropped her off at Junior K ourselves yesterday for the first day of class. We wanted to help her get settled and meet her teacher. She’s got her own desk with her name on it, and it’s chock-full of real, honest-to-God school supplies: glue, notebooks, scissors, No. 2 pencils… the works. It was exciting to see, but at the same time, it left me feeling a bit melancholy. If I get this worked up over Junior K, I’m going to be a complete wreck when she graduates from college.

Today, she got to take the bus to school in the morning for the first time. In typical fashion for Julia, she showed a bit of trepidation when the driver called her name to line up, and I wound up holding her hand all the way to the front of the line. In the end, though, she was happy as a clam once she was aboard and settled into a booster seat: she barely looked my way as the van backed out and drove off.

Joseph was actually far more affected by the process than Julia was, and not because he missed his sister. “Daddy, I want to get on bus,” he announced after Julia had clambered into her seat.

“I’m sorry, Joe,” I said, “you can’t get on the bus. The bus is for the big kids who are going to Junior K. When you get bigger and bigger—”

“NO, DADDY! I WANT TO GET ON BUS!” He was crying now, headed for a full-scale meltdown. “I WANT TO GET ON BUS,” he repeated between wails.

I did my best to calm him down. I didn’t want to leave until the van departed, just in case the child whose routine was actually being turned upside-down ran into problems.

“That’s Julia’s bus,” I said. “When you go to Junior K—”

Joseph was having none of it. “I WANT TO RIDE JO-JO’S BUS,” he wailed. “I WANT TO GET ON BUS!”

This continued past the time the van pulled away, all the way down the sidewalk to the infant side of the daycare, through the sign-in process inside, and into Joe’s classroom. Finally, after an additional minute or so of tears, he stopped crying, sobbed once, sniffed, and said, “OK.” And that was that.

No Car Wash

A few weeks back, I took the kids out to run a few errands—Julie wasn’t feeling well, so they were pretty much all mine that afternoon. The errands themselves were pretty typical: we went to the grocery store to pick up a pizza for dinner that night, and I think I mailed a letter, as well.

Things got a little more interesting, however, when we stopped to get gas. The van was looking pretty grimy—we don’t have a lot of free time on the weekends to begin with, and certain chores have a tendency to fall through the cracks—so I decided run it through the car wash. I’d actually sought out this particular gas station, since a recommendation on the Internet indicated that it was brushless. This turned out to be a complete fabrication, but that’s neither here nor there.

After filling the tank, I pulled up to the car wash entrance. I skimmed the instructions quickly, then hopped out to fold in the van’s mirrors, lest they be ripped from the car and cast into the sea (or so the dramatically worded warning implied). Satisfied that the vehicle was safe from dismemberment, I hopped back in and pulled into the squat structure. As the van settled into place and the interior grew dark, motors began whirring outside, and a bluish mixture of water and soap sprayed over the car’s windows. Julia or Joseph were apprehensive. “What’s that noise?” Joe asked. Then came the brushes.

In all honesty, the brushes really weren’t anything out of the ordinary: just strips of rubber or some unidentifiable material affixed to a rapidly turning spindle. But as far as they kids were concerned, they were the instruments of the devil himself. WHOMP-WHOMP-WHOMP, went the brushes as they began slapping the hood of the car. WHOMP-WHOMP-WHOMP, the sound growing louder as they made their way along the sides and over the top, moving closer to the kids’ seats in the van’s middle row. Right about then, the screaming started.

Julia kicked things off. She let out a terrified wail that dissolved into fearful cries and helpless sobs. “Make it stop, Daddy! I want to get out!”

Joe, naturally, was not OK with this. I think he was affected as much by his sister’s reaction as by the action of the car wash itself, but the end result was the same: terrified bawling, interspersed with helpless pleading. “No, Daddy, no car wash,” he said over and over again.

The whole episode lasted maybe a minute and a half—I’m cheap and got the bare-bones express wash, naturally—but it took four times that long to get the kids calmed down and coherent again after we pulled back into the sunlight. From now on, I think I’ll stick to washing the car by hand, schedule constraints be damned.

Update, 9/3/2008: To this day, Joe still says, “No car wash,” about half the time we get into the van.

Advancement

As we mentioned a couple weeks ago, Joseph just moved up to the next room at daycare: he started full time in Room G last week. Now, it’s Julia’s turn. She’s going to be visiting Room D in the preschool next week and officially moving up on June 23.

On one hand, this seems likely to be a rough transition for her. She really fond of her current teachers, Ms. Pat and Ms. Monica. When I drop her off in the morning, she’ll often run up to one of them and give her a hug (often catching them completely unawares, but that’s another story); she’s really had a chance to bond with them in the time she’s been in their room. On the other hand, despite her fondness for her teachers, she still has a hard time coping with being left at school: goodbyes without tears are the exception, not the rule. With that in mind, it’s not as though things are going to get harder in the morning.

Her new teachers will be Ms. Michel and Ms. Ngoc. Although she obviously doesn’t know them as well as she does Ms. Pat and Ms. Monica, she seems to like them well enough, and from what I’ve seen while passing through, Room D is a warm and positive environment. Plus, a number of her friends are moving up as well (or already have), so that will make things a bit easier.

In any event, it should be an interesting couple weeks.

Update (7/10/2011):This went very, very badly. Let’s just say that first impressions can be misleading and never speak of it again.

Mother’s Day 2007

Continuing our recent binge of posts, here we have a set of pictures from a day trip we took to Santa Cruz last year on Mother’s Day. As you can probably tell from the photos, it was absolutely freezing that morning: we stayed bundled up on the sand, keeping as far away from the water as we could while maintaining a credible claim to having gone to the beach. That’s the primary reason we didn’t repeat the trip this year, though we might take another crack at it in a few weeks.

Next up: pictures from my parents’ visit last September, including still more shots of very cold children.

Joseph’s Birthday Time Warp

Seeing as Joseph is turning two in just a few days, it seems only appropriate that we post last year’s birthday pictures this weekend.

It’s also worth noting that Joe is moving up to Room I at daycare next Monday, after having visited part-time for the last few weeks. Room I is more or less the two-year-old room, the last step before preschool. Because he’s moving up, we’ll no longer fill out the day Infant Care Report sheets when we drop him off, and we’ll no longer get an itemized breakdown of what he ate, when he napped and played outside, and how often his diapers were changed at the end of each day. I’ll miss it.

Milestone, Redux

On the topic of Joseph milestones, we noticed that he was starting to get ideas about climbing out of his crib last weekend. Nothing too overt, mind you: just leaning over the side and lifting his feet off the ground. However, we’ve been hoping to avoid a repeat of the Julia scenario, in which we found her wandering the halls (OK, hall) of the house after we thought she was safely tucked away in bed.

So, we converted his crib into a toddler bed, of sorts. It’s not technically a convertible crib, so we just removed the drop side, leaving the bed open to the rest of the room. The mattress sits a bit higher than you’d expect for a toddler bed—it’s a good eight inches higher than Julia’s for example—probably due to a) the drawers underneath the bed and b) the fact that it’s not actually intended to be used in this way. The height made me a little nervous, but at this point my head was filled with mental images of Joseph toppling headfirst over the side rail, so it seemed like an acceptable risk. Just to make me feel better, we put a couple soft pillows at the base of the crib.

Naturally, Joe fell out of bed that first night. I was working in the office when I heard two loud thumps. At first, I assumed it was Maggie chasing imagined enemies around the living room, but she was sleeping soundly on the guest bed. Next, I wondered if perhaps someone was trying to get into the house; our neighborhood is nice, but it’s not so nice that a break-in would be unthinkable, and a violent home invasion is one of my pet phobias. Only after I’d discounted that possibility—and not until after I’d quietly scouted the doors of the house to make sure they were locked—did it dawn on me what had happened, and even then, I was surprised that Joseph hadn’t so much as cried out when it happened.

I opened the door to the kids’ room and sure enough, there was Joseph, half-asleep and scrabbling around on the floor, trying to get comfortable on one of the pillows. I picked him up and sat with him for a few minutes, trying to ascertain whether he’d broken anything (unlikely, given that he seemed utterly unconcerned with anything other than getting back to sleep) or had managed to give himself a concussion (he seemed like his normal Joe self, which, in hindsight, is hardly conclusive evidence one way or the other). Finally satisfied that he hadn’t suffered any permanent damage, I put him back in bed—the far edge, against the remaining side—and put a few strategically placed stuffed animals between him and the edge in the vain hope that they’d provide a psychological barrier to prevent him from rolling too far in that direction. Then I left.

I lasted all of about ten minutes before deciding that this was a wholly inadequate solution. Thus inspired, I maneuvered the mattress off the guest bed in the office and dragged it across the hall to the kids’ room.

Now, although the guest bed’s mattress is just a single, it’s not a thin, flexible foam-rubber cushion like the ones you see in college dorms. Julie bought this for use with a trundle bed that was supposed to sit underneath our old guest bed, which now rests, disassembled, in the garage. It’s a good twelve inches thick and weighs a ton; it’s so big that the trundle/mattress combination never fit correctly under the old bed, so we couldn’t actually pull it out when the need arose.
Somehow, I managed to haul this behemoth through the door and into the room, position it next to Joe’s bed, and stuff the gap between the mattress and the underside of the bed with blankets without either child so much as stirring. Sometimes, you get lucky.

Satisfied with my ingenuity and comforted by the knowledge that Joseph was safe and secure, I headed off to sleep. I was really quite proud of myself. Naturally, Julie was somewhat less impressed by my creativity when she woke up the next morning, and the mattress was quickly returned to its home in the office. A cushion from one of the living room sofas replaced it, and though it doesn’t offer the same degree of protection as the foot-thick mattress, it does have the advantage of not taking up the whole room.

Milestone—Or Not

Joseph used the potty for the first time this evening. He’s been curious about the whole process for the last couple weeks, so we got the trainer potty down from the attic over the weekend. Generally speaking, he sits on it for a few seconds and then loses interest, but this time, something actually happened. I’m not sure who was more surprised, Joseph or Mommy.

It may have been just a fluke—he’s quite a bit younger than Julia was when she started potty training—but I figure it’s worth getting this up on the Internet now so that he can find it online when he’s doing vanity searches on his name a few years hence.