My sister and I play this game where we say a quote from a movie, television show, book, and have the other one try to guess which movie the quote is from--Walter can't stand this game--if you know which movie the title of my post is quoted from you get Sierra and Jesse points (which means absolutely nothing).
I used to play the violin, and actually, got pretty good at it once I decided that I wanted to be good at it. I guess that is the key to success--actually wanting it. I always thought I would have Isabella start violin lessons when she was three, and then decided that I didn't want to be one of those parents. I'm still not sure if I want to be the parent who forces daily practice time, corrects an incorrect bow hold, tweaks the wrist, attends weekly private lessons and twice monthly group lessons--I don't know. Either way, I feel like it's time to find out.
When I was in high school, I realized that the younger you begin purposefully developing your skill, the greater advantage you have. This became even more apparent when I auditioned for (and made it in as a second violinist) the Cleveland Contemporary Youth Orchestra. Those first violinists and concertmasters, they started lessons when they were three years old, and I was jealous. On the other hand, it gave me motivation to work harder, and to have two of the best private teachers throughout my violin education.
As a parent, I feel like it's hard to find a balance. Isabella is good at ballet, she seems to enjoy it quite a bit, and her teacher has said several times that she could see her eventually making it into the company. I take it all with a grain of salt. I want her to be successful, but I also want her to enjoy it. I suppose the time to stop, is the time she is no longer enjoying it. On the flip side, you see your child becoming successful, do you push them onward? You never know, there could be a college scholarship in their future, and we all know how expensive college is.
Saturday morning I took Isabella to observe a group Suzuki Violin lesson. We were both really looking forward to it, and it's a big deal for us to be anywhere by 8:00 a.m., so that goes to show how enthusiastic we were. It's a big commitment to go the Suzuki route, but it's also exciting, and I can already see that she would quickly surpass what I was able to achieve with the violin. Her learning and experience would be more rounded, and that makes me happy because I realize the opportunities she could have in the future...if she decided she wanted those opportunities. It seems like a toss of the coin...spend a fortune, give up monumental amounts of your time, and maybe, just maybe, your child will be the one who enjoys it, thrives, comes to love the feeling of the bow across the string, marvels at making a beautiful vibrato and appreciates the components of performing a piece of music.
I'm looking forward to walking this path with her and discovering if it is something she will enjoy. If she really loves it, who knows, I may even dust off that violin under my bed and accompany her.
I do apologize for the lack of pictures on my posts lately. I'm in a slump--writing and photography included. Here's to hoping that the coming of spring reinvigorates me!
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Sleepy Smiles
I guess Isaac was sufficiently tortured, I mean, challenged, at therapy today. A few hours later he took a three hour nap. I ended up holding him throughout the greater portion of the nap, and got to enjoy listening to him giggle in his sleep at one point.
Do you remember how your baby looked right after they'd finished a feeding? Completely drunk, and high on that wonderful breast milk. We used to laugh at Isabella after she finished nursing. Chubby cheeks flushed, body completely floppy, milk dribbling out of the corner of her mouth, dozing in perfect contentment, and then, to top it off, the corner of her mouth would twitch, and she'd smile. A perfect moment. I love sleepy smiles. Sometimes I watch Isabella while she sleeps, hoping that I might catch that little smile again.
I didn't get that experience with Isaac. He was always mad. Before a feeding, after a feeding, during a feeding, it didn't matter, and it was so frustrating. He rarely had that drunken, just breastfed, look of contentment. And he never smiled in his sleep. Probably because he hardly ever slept--he screamed instead. It is by God's grace alone that I survived.
It made me incredibly happy to hear Isaac giggle in his sleep today. I suppose it represents how far we've come and the amazing amount of progress we've made.
I promise he isn't signing 'Loser'. He's been working on signing 'see', and this is actually a very close approximation.
She made a necklace out of shrinky-dinks. Those things are so cool!
We are now at a stage where I can ask Isabella to read to Isaac so that I can finish getting ready or whatever (productive) thing it is I'm doing. She's not actually reading the words (even though I tell her every day that she could read most of the "real" words). She has every book in our house memorized.
Until next time,
Sierra
Do you remember how your baby looked right after they'd finished a feeding? Completely drunk, and high on that wonderful breast milk. We used to laugh at Isabella after she finished nursing. Chubby cheeks flushed, body completely floppy, milk dribbling out of the corner of her mouth, dozing in perfect contentment, and then, to top it off, the corner of her mouth would twitch, and she'd smile. A perfect moment. I love sleepy smiles. Sometimes I watch Isabella while she sleeps, hoping that I might catch that little smile again.
I didn't get that experience with Isaac. He was always mad. Before a feeding, after a feeding, during a feeding, it didn't matter, and it was so frustrating. He rarely had that drunken, just breastfed, look of contentment. And he never smiled in his sleep. Probably because he hardly ever slept--he screamed instead. It is by God's grace alone that I survived.
It made me incredibly happy to hear Isaac giggle in his sleep today. I suppose it represents how far we've come and the amazing amount of progress we've made.
I promise he isn't signing 'Loser'. He's been working on signing 'see', and this is actually a very close approximation.
She made a necklace out of shrinky-dinks. Those things are so cool!
We are now at a stage where I can ask Isabella to read to Isaac so that I can finish getting ready or whatever (productive) thing it is I'm doing. She's not actually reading the words (even though I tell her every day that she could read most of the "real" words). She has every book in our house memorized.
Until next time,
Sierra
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Lost and found
This morning Walter lost a small piece that belonged to something he was working on. We were searching the floor for it, we went through the clumps of dog hair I'd just vacuumed up, and he was even going through the trash (which was where he eventually found it--I think after his second or third trash dig). The whole time I was searching, I couldn't stop thinking about my grandpa. He could find anything.
When I'd pack up and get ready to leave my grandparent's house, and notice that I couldn't find a sock, for example, my grandpa would start hunting. I'd say, "It's really okay, grandpa, I have other socks. If you come across it, just let me know." He'd just shake his head slowly, refusing to give up the hunt, and go through a check-list of places that I should have already checked.
The last time we left my grandparent's house, Walter said, "I hope we didn't forget anything." Without thinking, I caught myself saying, "Well, if we did, I'm sure grandpa will find it."
My grandparent's house is a few miles from The Ohio State University campus. This means that their street and alleys get a fair amount of foot-traffic. Every morning, my grandpa took his dog for a walk, and he'd always come back with a treasure. Pennies and other coins, wallets (don't worry, they always returned them), books, jewelry, watches, interesting furniture people had thrown away, you name it, he probably found it.
Now, any time I've misplaced something, I picture my grandpa, head down, one hand in his back pocket, slowly looking, sure that he will find it. He always did find that missing object, and then I'd get a call from grandma, telling me exactly where it was found.
When I'd pack up and get ready to leave my grandparent's house, and notice that I couldn't find a sock, for example, my grandpa would start hunting. I'd say, "It's really okay, grandpa, I have other socks. If you come across it, just let me know." He'd just shake his head slowly, refusing to give up the hunt, and go through a check-list of places that I should have already checked.
The last time we left my grandparent's house, Walter said, "I hope we didn't forget anything." Without thinking, I caught myself saying, "Well, if we did, I'm sure grandpa will find it."
My grandparent's house is a few miles from The Ohio State University campus. This means that their street and alleys get a fair amount of foot-traffic. Every morning, my grandpa took his dog for a walk, and he'd always come back with a treasure. Pennies and other coins, wallets (don't worry, they always returned them), books, jewelry, watches, interesting furniture people had thrown away, you name it, he probably found it.
Now, any time I've misplaced something, I picture my grandpa, head down, one hand in his back pocket, slowly looking, sure that he will find it. He always did find that missing object, and then I'd get a call from grandma, telling me exactly where it was found.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Carrots as rockets
I'd shared my feeding therapy frustrations many times with Isaac's therapists, and then finally, we dropped out of the second feeding therapy approach we'd tried...and failed. Well, maybe not exactly failed. For awhile we would have been given a D...maybe a C-. Many months ago, Isaac's Occupational Therapist told me that she was going to attend a conference on an approach to feeding therapy that she thought would be a good fit for Isaac. I was all for it, and looked forward to hearing what she thought after she attended the conference.
Heather (his OT) returned from the conference full of excitement. She planned to start as soon as possible, but she warned me that we would have to do some weird stuff. Uh, okay, I guess I'm up for anything, I just want the kid to eat one day...or at the very least, touch food. She told me that once we reached a certain point of success during the program, we would have to put food in our mouth, chew it up, and spit it out, so that he could visualize what chewing does, or that food is safe to eat, or something like that. And then she told me that you begin with green and orange foods, which meant, broccoli. Oh man, Heather, I really don't like broccoli. She said we could use asparagus instead. For whatever reason, we've been using green apples, so I'm cool with that.
You have to know something about me. I don't like messy eating. Can't stand it. It disgusts me. I'm okay with Isaac being messy. He can smear food, throw food, smash food, I really don't care, whatever gets him to touch it and eventually, eat it. But as for me, I'm the person who cuts up my slice of pizza into small bites so that I don't risk something getting on my face. I would never eat a cone of ice-cream, bowl and spoon for me. Messy appetizers that are not offered without a plate and fork--forget it. The only people I am truly comfortable eating in front of, is my family. Obviously, Isaac isn't the only one who has problems. I'm just going to admit here, that I have been in therapy for my own problems, including but not limited to my issue with eating in front of people. Either way, therapy is awesome, and I firmly believe everyone (probably some people more than others) should have a good therapist, so go out and support the mental health professionals!
Well, obviously the idea of spitting out food onto my hand, had me concerned. But I knew it would just be Heather, Shelly (Isaac's speech therapist), Isaac and me, sitting at the table, so I was sure I could be brave enough. We've had four feeding therapy sessions so far, and Heather is super outgoing, and full of energy, and silly...basically, everything I'm not, so if she's cool with looking ridiculous, I try to spend those forty-five minutes being okay with looking ridiculous. Isaac was being very brave this week. During most of the session he stares at Heather like she is completely insane, but this week, he actually touched the carrot and the cheese to his face--huge step for him. How did we get him to do this? Obviously, we pretended the carrot was a train and chugged up our arm, which was the mountain, to the top of our head, the peak of the mountain, and then back down the other side. Then, Isaac shocked us by putting the carrot to his face, so obviously the carrot had to be a rocket that shot out of our mouth, so that just maybe, Isaac would be cool with putting something, anything, aside that infant, hospital issued pacifier, in his mouth. I shot a carrot out of my mouth like it was rocket. Isaac thought it was hilarious, and we all laughed. And I was brave, just for him, because I want my kid to eat.
Heather (his OT) returned from the conference full of excitement. She planned to start as soon as possible, but she warned me that we would have to do some weird stuff. Uh, okay, I guess I'm up for anything, I just want the kid to eat one day...or at the very least, touch food. She told me that once we reached a certain point of success during the program, we would have to put food in our mouth, chew it up, and spit it out, so that he could visualize what chewing does, or that food is safe to eat, or something like that. And then she told me that you begin with green and orange foods, which meant, broccoli. Oh man, Heather, I really don't like broccoli. She said we could use asparagus instead. For whatever reason, we've been using green apples, so I'm cool with that.
You have to know something about me. I don't like messy eating. Can't stand it. It disgusts me. I'm okay with Isaac being messy. He can smear food, throw food, smash food, I really don't care, whatever gets him to touch it and eventually, eat it. But as for me, I'm the person who cuts up my slice of pizza into small bites so that I don't risk something getting on my face. I would never eat a cone of ice-cream, bowl and spoon for me. Messy appetizers that are not offered without a plate and fork--forget it. The only people I am truly comfortable eating in front of, is my family. Obviously, Isaac isn't the only one who has problems. I'm just going to admit here, that I have been in therapy for my own problems, including but not limited to my issue with eating in front of people. Either way, therapy is awesome, and I firmly believe everyone (probably some people more than others) should have a good therapist, so go out and support the mental health professionals!
Well, obviously the idea of spitting out food onto my hand, had me concerned. But I knew it would just be Heather, Shelly (Isaac's speech therapist), Isaac and me, sitting at the table, so I was sure I could be brave enough. We've had four feeding therapy sessions so far, and Heather is super outgoing, and full of energy, and silly...basically, everything I'm not, so if she's cool with looking ridiculous, I try to spend those forty-five minutes being okay with looking ridiculous. Isaac was being very brave this week. During most of the session he stares at Heather like she is completely insane, but this week, he actually touched the carrot and the cheese to his face--huge step for him. How did we get him to do this? Obviously, we pretended the carrot was a train and chugged up our arm, which was the mountain, to the top of our head, the peak of the mountain, and then back down the other side. Then, Isaac shocked us by putting the carrot to his face, so obviously the carrot had to be a rocket that shot out of our mouth, so that just maybe, Isaac would be cool with putting something, anything, aside that infant, hospital issued pacifier, in his mouth. I shot a carrot out of my mouth like it was rocket. Isaac thought it was hilarious, and we all laughed. And I was brave, just for him, because I want my kid to eat.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Early, then late, then just a bad Mommy.
I've trained Isabella on the importance of timeliness. Of course, this is good and bad, since she often grills me as we are on our way to our destination: Are we going to be early? Will we be the first ones there? You mean we're going to be late? What does late mean? So, we're going to be early, then? Right on time? What is 'right on time'? Is that early? You get the idea. The government should try hiring children to conduct interrogations. She knows just which buttons to push, at exactly the right time, and knows just how to push me over the edge so that I start to believe I am insane.
On Monday, Isaac seemed like he was getting a cold, so I was very happy when it took little effort to get him down for a nap, but then I checked the clock. Story-time was going to begin in one hour. Isabella finished up her school work, and I rushed her into the car, and then went back inside and very apologetically woke up Isaac and put him in the car. We were on our way, Isaac asleep again in his car seat, when I remembered, story-time doesn't start at 12:30 p.m., it starts at 1:30 p.m. We would be an hour early. Bang head on steering wheel (not really--that would give me a headache, and I get plenty of those without banging my head against hard objects).
Tuesday was a little different. We were in the car at four o'clock, all set to be perfectly on time for the 4:30 p.m. story-time. I was even a little excited by the fact I had time to stop at Starbucks for a cup of coffee. I got a text from Sarah: Are you guys coming to story-time? Me: Yeah Sarah: It just started (at 4). Bang head on steering wheel.
-Isabella, it looks like I made a mistake, story-time is starting right now, and I thought it wasn't going to start for another half hour.
-YOU MEAN WE'RE GOING TO MISS IT????
-Well, we'll get there as soon as we can, and maybe you can still do the craft.
-(crying) BUT I TOLD THE LIBRARIAN THAT I WOULD BE THERE FOR THE WHOLE CONTIRE (entire) THING!
-Yes, I understand you are very disappointed, all we can do is go for whatever part is left and then you can still play with your friends at the library.
It gets better:
I don't even remember why, but Isabella had to go to her room for a time-out. Personally, I love time-outs. I wish someone would put me in time-out. I also love that they send everyone to separate corners, where they have to be silent. I typically use it to my advantage when a time-out is going really well. Basically this means that the time-out recipient forgot they were in time-out and happily stayed in their bedroom. Isabella spent a considerable amount of time her in room on this particular occasion and it was pretty fabulous because Isaac was napping, and she was quiet, and forgot that she could come out of her room. Until she did come out of her room and had a note for me: My mommy does not lok my (My mommy does not like me). Lovely. The power of the written word.
Can you tell, I have a really good track record for parenting this week...and it's only Wednesday (and the first time I typed that, I spelled 'Wednesday' wrong)...and my daughter told me I "need to start remembering stuff better".
On Monday, Isaac seemed like he was getting a cold, so I was very happy when it took little effort to get him down for a nap, but then I checked the clock. Story-time was going to begin in one hour. Isabella finished up her school work, and I rushed her into the car, and then went back inside and very apologetically woke up Isaac and put him in the car. We were on our way, Isaac asleep again in his car seat, when I remembered, story-time doesn't start at 12:30 p.m., it starts at 1:30 p.m. We would be an hour early. Bang head on steering wheel (not really--that would give me a headache, and I get plenty of those without banging my head against hard objects).
Tuesday was a little different. We were in the car at four o'clock, all set to be perfectly on time for the 4:30 p.m. story-time. I was even a little excited by the fact I had time to stop at Starbucks for a cup of coffee. I got a text from Sarah: Are you guys coming to story-time? Me: Yeah Sarah: It just started (at 4). Bang head on steering wheel.
-Isabella, it looks like I made a mistake, story-time is starting right now, and I thought it wasn't going to start for another half hour.
-YOU MEAN WE'RE GOING TO MISS IT????
-Well, we'll get there as soon as we can, and maybe you can still do the craft.
-(crying) BUT I TOLD THE LIBRARIAN THAT I WOULD BE THERE FOR THE WHOLE CONTIRE (entire) THING!
-Yes, I understand you are very disappointed, all we can do is go for whatever part is left and then you can still play with your friends at the library.
It gets better:
I don't even remember why, but Isabella had to go to her room for a time-out. Personally, I love time-outs. I wish someone would put me in time-out. I also love that they send everyone to separate corners, where they have to be silent. I typically use it to my advantage when a time-out is going really well. Basically this means that the time-out recipient forgot they were in time-out and happily stayed in their bedroom. Isabella spent a considerable amount of time her in room on this particular occasion and it was pretty fabulous because Isaac was napping, and she was quiet, and forgot that she could come out of her room. Until she did come out of her room and had a note for me: My mommy does not lok my (My mommy does not like me). Lovely. The power of the written word.
Can you tell, I have a really good track record for parenting this week...and it's only Wednesday (and the first time I typed that, I spelled 'Wednesday' wrong)...and my daughter told me I "need to start remembering stuff better".
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Mostly pictures
"This one boy kept telling me that boys are stronger than girls."
"That's crazy. Everybody knows that girls are stronger than boys."
"I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't stop saying that."
"Just tell him that girls give birth to babies, and it hurts a lot to birth a baby, so girls are stronger."
"Well, how am I supposed to remember all of that?"
*******************************************************************************
Mainly just pictures today. Maybe a real post next time. Also, I'm not sure why blogger can't manage to upload my pictures in order. It's a major pain in the butt to switch them around. So, I'll help you out.
Big milestones were met this weekend: Isaac walked almost the entire time we were at the zoo, and he is now wearing his ankle/foot orthotics full-time.
Isabella can spend hours playing outside despite the cold. Stella is always near, and on guard.
We like to tell Isaac that he one of very few, nearly three year old boys, that can still sit on the kitchen counter.
Oh, look at that, we're back at the zoo...
He loved trying to chase his shadow.
Who is this child walking on mulch and leaves?
And now we're home...doing laundry...
"The truth is, I broke the bracelet so that I could use the beads to feed the duck in my play."
"I had no idea you had a duck"
"It's not a real duck. Obviously, ducks don't eat beads."
"That's crazy. Everybody knows that girls are stronger than boys."
"I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't stop saying that."
"Just tell him that girls give birth to babies, and it hurts a lot to birth a baby, so girls are stronger."
"Well, how am I supposed to remember all of that?"
*******************************************************************************
Mainly just pictures today. Maybe a real post next time. Also, I'm not sure why blogger can't manage to upload my pictures in order. It's a major pain in the butt to switch them around. So, I'll help you out.
Big milestones were met this weekend: Isaac walked almost the entire time we were at the zoo, and he is now wearing his ankle/foot orthotics full-time.
Isabella can spend hours playing outside despite the cold. Stella is always near, and on guard.
We like to tell Isaac that he one of very few, nearly three year old boys, that can still sit on the kitchen counter.
Oh, look at that, we're back at the zoo...
He loved trying to chase his shadow.
Who is this child walking on mulch and leaves?
And now we're home...doing laundry...
"The truth is, I broke the bracelet so that I could use the beads to feed the duck in my play."
"I had no idea you had a duck"
"It's not a real duck. Obviously, ducks don't eat beads."
Thursday, January 17, 2013
The time I told my daughter to eat a balloon...
Every single night the same annoying re-run takes place in our house. It goes something like this:
"Isabella, time to put your pajamas on."
"I'm so starving...I haven't eaten anything ALL DAY, and I can't go to be without my bedtime snack. I really really need a bedtime snack! What can I have for my bedtime snack?"
"We'll talk about a snack after you put your pajamas on."
"Well, I know you're going to say 'no', but I really want this, and you're going to say 'no', but I'm going to ask anyway..."
"Isabella! Just say it and you don't know that I am going to say 'no'!"
"Can I have treat for my bedtime snack?"
"No."
Last night, a similar scenario occurred, remember, I said this is our nightly re-run, but she finished her snack and came over to ask a question:
"I finished my snack, but I'm still hungry."
"Fine, take a balloon to bed and eat it."
We both paused for a minute, and I realized my mistake, then we burst out laughing and I almost peed my pants. I meant to say, banana. Two very easily mixed up words, right?
The very common sideways glare. This usually means, "Why are you talking to me and/or looking at me--please stop, or I will scream."
Reading her homework story to daddy...
Talking on the phone with Aunt Rosie...
My tip of the week: Don't let your kids eat balloons. You're welcome.
"Isabella, time to put your pajamas on."
"I'm so starving...I haven't eaten anything ALL DAY, and I can't go to be without my bedtime snack. I really really need a bedtime snack! What can I have for my bedtime snack?"
"We'll talk about a snack after you put your pajamas on."
"Well, I know you're going to say 'no', but I really want this, and you're going to say 'no', but I'm going to ask anyway..."
"Isabella! Just say it and you don't know that I am going to say 'no'!"
"Can I have treat for my bedtime snack?"
"No."
Last night, a similar scenario occurred, remember, I said this is our nightly re-run, but she finished her snack and came over to ask a question:
"I finished my snack, but I'm still hungry."
"Fine, take a balloon to bed and eat it."
We both paused for a minute, and I realized my mistake, then we burst out laughing and I almost peed my pants. I meant to say, banana. Two very easily mixed up words, right?
The very common sideways glare. This usually means, "Why are you talking to me and/or looking at me--please stop, or I will scream."
Reading her homework story to daddy...
Talking on the phone with Aunt Rosie...
My tip of the week: Don't let your kids eat balloons. You're welcome.
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