Into Australia

Almost three

I have to admit that almost three is perhaps my favorite age so far with Elise.  Just two was not.  But she now is pretty much potty trained and buckles herself in the car.  And "reads" herself books.  Her most animated conversations are on the play phone to Mimi and Papa and to Grandma, but she's still strangely silent when she actually talks to them.  The other day I heard the rustle of cellophane in the kitchen and found her sitting on the stool she'd pulled up to the pantry to get the bag of chips I'd placed out of her reach.  "Chips are healthy food."  she sunnily announced while nodding her head in hopes that I'd nod mine as well. 

We made our monthly trip to the mall that houses the Australian Wal-mart equivalent and the Boffa beauty salon.  She sat quietly while I got my hair washed, cut and styled, but insisted on pushing her own buggy once we were done.  Trips to the mall are a big occasion for her and something that we've only recently recommenced after a brief outing had me, cursing like a sailor (but only in my head) as I hauled out a squealing, squirming toddler that had fallen to pieces (while holding a lolly) because I simply refused to pay money for her to ride the Wiggles carousel when there was a free and functional escalator right next to it.  I grew up going to rodeos that featured the greased pig contest.  The object was to catch a piglet they'd poured vegetable oil on, put it in a bag and bring it to the middle of the arena.  Who knew such a contest had a practical adult application.  Malls are difficult places to have really affirming experiences with your child, and I'd given up for awhile, but eventually, like childbirth the memory faded and we tried again.   

And today, generally, went well.  She is after all, nearly three.  She oooed and aaaahed at the little bunnies, but then seemed content to move on.  We even passed by the Wiggles carousel with only the mildest of protestations.  She looked overly precocious as she gently pushed her hair out of her way before sipping her baby-chino.  But then as a reminder that she is just two, when I gave her half of my muffin, she sank into a tantrum.  she wanted the whole thing.

More firsts

Things have been busy here.  Hence, few posts.

But Caleb came in the other day and instructed me that he could eat pasta, bread, bananas and oranges in his lunch.  But not carrots or apples. 

He has a wobbly tooth. 

I mourned a little, about the same amount when he got the tooth in first place.  He got his first tooth at four months and so perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that it wobbles and he's barely in kindergarten (and wouldn't be in kindergarten if we were in Texas).  I looked at his little kindy (they call it kindy here) picture where he sports a grin of tiny white teeth with equal spaces between them.  Pretty soon, he'll have a gap, then his teeth will go through a period where they will look like they could be used to punture tin juice cans.  After awhile, the teeth will all grow in and they'll look oh so big for his little body and he'll be in the awkward tween years.  He is growing up.

He also scored his first soccer goal this past weekend.  I had to be told of the event since I could not make it.  Figures.  Anyway, he set up a replay in the living room between the couch and chair and showed me just how he "sneaked" it in.  He has "sneaked" up on me in so many other ways as well.

On Elise

Elise keeps me humble.  She's stubborn, funny, at two can maintain a grudge, and a downright daredevil except at swimming lessons and where she morphs into clingwrap.  She's also persistent, independent, and did I say stubborn? 

Caleb has learned to ride a bike and Elise, not to be outdone, has taken her trike riding up a notch.  Her favorite activity at the moment is to traipse, pink doll bunny in hand, up the hill to almost the end of our cul-de-sac, she then sits on her little trike, Fred Flinstone's it two or three times until she reaches speeds approaching those acheived in a freefall, then just as she is about to hit the curb she slows herself down with her feet just enough to jolt her out of her seat when she slams into the curb without flipping herself over the handlebars of the trike.  She's done this about a hundred times.  We'll ask, Elise was that fun?  She, still wobbly from the crash, always replies, Yeah, that was fun!

Now we are sort of entertaining the thought of potty training.  Last night Elise pooped in her little blue training potty with the removable container after making pooping noises.  She learned about pooping noises after a bout with gas a couple of nights ago.  This is our little princess.  Today she sat on her little training potty with the little removable container again to see if she could make any "water" go into it.  She sat down, nothing came out.  She wanted to get up, but I pleaded, Elise, there's no pee in it, no water.  Can you make water in the toilet.  She took out the container, inspected it herself (it sort of irritates me that she won't trust me on this) then she inserted it back into the potty, leaned over the container and spat in it and said, Water!

I'm going to keep diapers on the grocery list for now.

   

Off with the training wheels

Caleb learned to ride a bike today. 

He is growing up so fast.

I thought I'd pass the "secret" on to the rest of the world.  Before we moved to Australia someone mentioned that they taught their daughter to ride a bicycle by taking off the pedals (most of them unscrew at the pedal).  Kids just sort of push themselves along and learn how to balance on two wheels.  So about a week ago we took Caleb's pedals off and let him push himself along on the bike.  When I saw him push off then place his feet on the bar between the seat and the handlebars.  I figured he was probably ready for pedals, so we put the pedals back on and I took him to a nearby park that has really short grass.  I put Caleb and his bike on the hill, helped him sort of get started the first few times and then he was riding just fine.  That was this afternoon.  By this evening he was riding in circles around the street in front of our house.

Starting School

Today Caleb goes to school for the first time.

Monday we went to the uniform shop to pick out school uniforms. We bought a couple of polo shirts with the school emblem on the front.  A couple of pairs of grey socks with blue stripes around the top.  We bought two pairs of grey curdoroy shorts.  A sweatshirt.  A rain coat.  A hat.  And a backpack that makes him look like a Sherpa ready to climb Mount Everest. 

Since the uniform shop was little more than a walk-in-closet and a cash register, Caleb and Elise had gone out to play in the school grounds.  Emerging from the shop (about $250 lighter and that did not include the winter uniform) I found them sitting side by side, Caleb intently watching a group of children playing tag. 

"Caleb whatcha doin'?"

"I'm thinking."

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about how I can make friends with those kids over there."

The kids were clearly engrossed in their game, all knew one another, and Caleb in contrast looked so alone.  I nearly cried. 

When I began to offer a suggestion, he said.  "But, I'm a bit shy."

Up until this point, I'd not been the least bit apprehensive about Caleb's starting school.  But now that the moment is drawing closer, I'm realizing how much our lives will change.  In the past, we've made plans without a thought of a school calendar.  But now our holidays will be dictated by it.*  I watched Elise follow Caleb around the school grounds yesterday.  And I thought again about how much she would miss him.  When Caleb is the knight, she's the dragon (so much for the princess dress she got for Christmas.)  And while I will not miss the bickering that does occur at our house over McDonald's toys, I will miss the sound of weapons fire as Caleb and Elise take on the "baddies" with their swords and whatever will suffice for a gun. 

For the past couple of days we have been playing school.  He's the student, I'm the teacher.  I wanted to go to the award winning playground we recently found.  Caleb wanted to stay at home in our unairconditioned house and play school.  I wanted to walk down to the little beach by our house.  Caleb had rather practice his letters.  He's been calling me ma'am for three days because we won't know who his teacher is until we arrive today.  If I respond to him in a tone of voice that does not sound "teachery" Caleb reminds me, "Mom, your the teacher.  Remember?"  Yesterday Caleb and Elise and I went to morning tea at the park to meet with about 50 other kids that will be starting school tomorrow.  They played games and had relay races.  One of the women mentioned that they played games at school, so we came home and walked around the front yard carrying around eggs with soup spoons.  Note:  Important to boil the eggs for kindy egg and spoon races.

I think I hear Caleb getting up.  He's putting on his uniform.  We still have two and a half hours before school begins.

*(One note:  Australia is far less stringent about missing a week here and there than Texas.  We live in a fairly international area and I hear parents regularly take children out for trips back to their native countries.  Our neighbors will miss the first week of school for that reason.)

And now we are wearing two diapers

That's right, we've gone from wearing no diapers to wearing two of them at one time. 

I've been concerned about Elise's gait and my bad back.  Elise walks on her toes and her toes go in just a little.  Not enough to warrant surgery, but enough to make her trip and fall quite often.  Part of this is due to age.  Many children are "pigeon toed" at this age and then they grow out of it.  But I never did.  Neither did my dad. 

Anyway, I was talking to a friend of mine who works with cerebral palsy children.  She said that they often advise parents whose children are exhibiting in-toeing to put two diapers on the child.  This causes the "ball" of the "ball-and-socket" hip joint to sort of press into the socket allowing it to deepen.  People who are pigeon-toed might have flatter hip sockets, and I might also add, low back pain and hip problems later on in life.  Usually double diapering is done as the child is learning to walk, so it maybe a little late for Elise.  But I was willing to abandon the potty training (which was progressing oh so nicely anyway, LOL) and try this for awhile. It's been four days, I'm not sure I'm seeing any results. 

Another cause could be that the calf bone is turned inward.  I'm not sure double diapering will help if that is the case, but on the bright side, most really fast sprinters display in-toeing.  So perhaps (if she ever gets over the tripping and falling all the time thing) she'll be the next Florence Griffith Joyner.

Thanksgiving

We had a low key Thanksgiving.  Friends came over, we had fajitas and wine.  We are thankful for friends, thankful for fajitas, thankful for wine.  This morning, which is much cooler than this other morning, finds my children listening to Trout Fishing in America sing,

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall/  Humpty Dumpty had a great fall/  All the kings horses and all the kings men/ they through him out the window/ the window/ they through him out the window. . ."

and "working" on a craft project.  I am thankful for the sounds of children.  Their is a beautiful harmony that occurs when my children laugh together.  I'm thankful for the patter of their little feet, though in our house with it's pier and beem foundation it sounds more like stampeding elephants--still I'm thankful.  The craft project involves small loose beads that are placed on a mat and then melted together with an iron.  I am thankful for our vacuum cleaner. 

I am thankful that my kids (generally) go to bed without a fuss.  Elise could have done a bit better last night, but all in all she did okay.  I know the bedtime routine for many is quite elaborate and we will sometimes read books before the kids go to bed, but they know not to count on it.  Last night we'd bathed the kids early and all had dinner together and then enjoyed adults-only time.  I am thankful for adults-only time.

The first pilgrims celebrated Thanksgiving after one particularly brutal winter and bountiful summer.  And that seems to have characterized many of the first thanksgivings.  Relief from some sort of hardship was granted--relief from drought, or a particularly hard winter, one thanksgiving occured after the Pilgrims defeated the heathen Indians (their words, not mine and I am left to wonder if these were not the same indians with whom they first gave thanks)  so the governor or other leading officer called for a day of Thanksgiving.  So perhaps we need to be thankful for the totality of our lives.  It seems we need droughts to appreciate rain.  And this year our family has experienced areas of drought, we dearly miss family and friends, and apartment living in the middle of the city was a particularly lonely time.  But we've also experienced rain, we've met wonderful people here, found a wonderful church, and enjoy coffee and the laughter of kookaburras in the morning.  So we are thankful. 

This year has made me more thankful for friends both far and near, for family both far and near.  Out of necessity we have thrown ourselves on a new church family and they have taken us in and we are grateful.  We miss our family and friends from home and in missing them we are more grateful for their presence in our lives.  Caleb and Elise have developed a pretty good relationship over the last several months, principally because they didn't have anyone else to play with.  Elise loves, adores, idolizes her brother.  Caleb in return does relish making her laugh though he can still turn sour when Elise decides to play the part of the clumsy giant around his Lego castle.  But generally they appreciate one another's company and I am thankful for that. 

Eric and I have weathered losses within both of our families this year.  And reflecting upon my Grandfather and his father make us aware of the gift of life that we are presented each morning as we awake.  Each day is a priviledge, never a right, and they would want us to know and live our lives according to this truth.  We are fortunate to have known them, been shaped by them, and we are hopeful that the best of who they are survives in us and in our children.

I am thankful for my husband.  He has arranged a night on the town for tonight, hired the  babysitter, and made plans.  Eric is good at making plans and I am forever thankful that he is.  He's also good at keeping track of phone numbers and important documents.  And while that particular quality might seem trivial, when you are in Customs at an international airport it is not.  But this small habit suggests a much greater characteristic:  the ability to apply appropriate amounts of detail to the various circumstances of our life.  That, and he always calls the babysitter, which makes tonight a date.  I am thankful that I still have dates with my husband.

Even in the absence of a turkey, or stuffing, or mom's strawberry salad, or cherry pie; even in the absence of family, and even on a day when Eric headed off to the office, we still have much to be thankful for. 

Potty training

Elise, wearing brightly decorated underwear (and nothing else), carrying one of my discarded purses with an Eric Carle book stuffed inside, has just walked out our front door to go shopping.  She did say bye and that she loved me too.

Oh wait.  She's back.  She says she needs the keys.  Where are they . . .

We are on the second week of potty training.  And really, it has worked, I'm completely trained.  One wide-eyed pause and anxious glance from Elise and faster than a pavlovian dog's mouth can water, I am there on cue to rush her to the potty before she pee-pees--actually the phrase here is "does a wee"--on the new couch.  Phrasing is important because when someone else asks her if she needs to "do a wee".  Elise blankly looks at them as the wee runs down her leg, out her pink Barbie sandles and onto their carpet.  Yes, potty training is going great.  just great.

And it is hot.  Hot. Hot.  In the 90's.  No cool ocean breeze, and smoke from somewhere in the Blue Mountain ranges made me think the kids had set the house on fire.  Fortunately, it's just a massive wildfire raging out of control somewhere else. 

Did I mention we don't have air conditioning?  It is hot.  If I were two I might pee all over myself as well if it meant I could walk around naked.  In fact, the reward of being naked in this heat would sure outweigh that of one measley melting m&m--and yes, they can melt in your hands. 

We may have to move up to Hersey Kisses.  No, that much melting chocolate and sweaty little two year old hands do not mix well.  Perhaps Starburst.   

Anyway the heat is getting to us.  But I just decided to nix Elise's shopping trip (I've pretty much been aquiescing all week to anything she wants in the hopes that she'd go to the bathroom on her own)  and put her down for a nap.  And somewhere between the start of this post and Elise going shopping, and me reasserting my parental authority and putting her down for a nap, it got hot.  I was surprised at how early kids dropped that afternoon nap here in Sydney.  Now, I know why.  In the summer afternoons you are not supposed to be at home. Elise's room is actually in a cool, well, cooler part of the house.  Let me rephrase, Elise's room is the cool part of the house.  But that doesn't help the rest of us.  Caleb and I are in Dante's inferno--3rd level I believe. 

Caleb is making paper airplanes which he tries to fly into the ceiling fan.  One that probably can't. keep. up. this. speed. much. longer.  And I am about to go online and look for a deal on a few more fans.  We need them.

We ARE from Texas

I can't stand most children's music.  So we don't listen to it.  I don't have anything against it and I do think it is cute when my two year old sings little children's songs, but it is beyond maddening to be by myself without a child in sight and humming a number one hit from the Wiggles.  My compromise is musicals (The Sound of Music, and Crazy for You at the moment) but being Texan, I'm not sure I want my son singing I've Got Rhythm, I've got music . . . It sounds wimpy and we do, after all, have a stereotype to maintain while here in Australia.  I think we're going to start listening to Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson.  Other kids might sing "driving in my big red car," or "Dorothy the Dinosaur,"  while playing on the playground.  Caleb, being Texan, needs to sing songs about prison and cowboys--hopefully a song containing both along with a refrain about mama. 

At a four year old birthday party, where kids played pass the parcel and then broke open a pinata, a friend asked us about our birthday traditions.  Eric replied, "We do anything with guns."  Eric is doing his part, we need to do ours.  Caleb is now listening to "Mama, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys."  Next week we'll learn "Folsom Prison Blues."

Big changes!

Eric is on business in Chicago.  Since he has been away two big BIG BIG changes have taken place.  Elise lost her last pacifier.  The one she pined for in the dark whenever it fell out of the crib at night.  The one she would call out for from the back seat of the car when the long travel became too much for a poor two year old soul to bear.  The one that would lull her back to sleep (or at least keep her quiet for another half hour) when the 5:00 a.m. sun poured through the slats of the blinds in her bedroom window.  When hurt, she'd wipe her tear and snot stained cheeks on my shirt and with the same voice as one stranded in the desert might say, "water, water," she'd say, "pacifier, pacifier."  It was her comfort when life overwhelmed her, when it terrorized her, when it was cruel, and when life seemed to lull she'd placidly twirl it around in her mouth --The oral equivalent of twiddling her thumbs.  The paci has been her constant companion.

And that was our life up until a week ago.  We'd come to Australia with four paci's.  And one by one they'd all disappeared.  I'd informed her that before I'd allow her to drive a car she'd have to give up the paci.  I'd also informed her I was no longer shelling out the big bucks for a pacifier.  She would only take the most expensive brand and then only the clear silicone ones.  No latex! 

We dearly missed the pacifier.  For the first couple of days after giving it up I thought I might begin an addiction of some sorts.  The pacifier had pacified both child and mother in the past and I missed it dearly.  But now it has been a week and it looks like the pacifier days are behind us.  Elise hasn't asked for it.  And except for being a bit fussier when put down for nap and bedtime she's no worse the wear.  My saving grace when Eric travels is the knowledge that I can put Elise in her crib, shut the door to her room, and though she might let loose a cry that could be confused with that of a dying howler monkey, she really is okay. 

But yesterday I put Elise in her crib, told her to have sweet dreams and then went to the kitchen to snag a snack other than carrots or apples.  Around the corner in the living room I could here Caleb doing his spot on imitation of Elise.  But as I munched on the chocolate that I keep hidden underneath the celery in the crisper, so I don't have to share it with my kids (tell me I'm not the only one who does this) I realized the imitation was a little too good.  Elise had scaled the crib walls and was now dancing on the couch.  She smiled at me quite proud of her new accomplishment.  Then she let out a cackle.  Then she danced some more. 

And here we've crossed two milestones just mere moments apart.  No more pacifier, no more crib.  And I am out of chocolate.