Skype Saves the Day

Greysen and I are together every other week through the summer.  I find it extremely difficult mid-week to find my grounding while he's gone. Everything seems off; maybe it hits me that we still have another half week to go before we see each other. Usually by Wednesday we get to Skype or talk on the phone. This week we Skyped and it was so sweet.

Greysen: Mama, it feels like 12,000 eons since we saw each other.
Me: Yes, when you really miss someone, it always feels longer than it really is.
Greysen: Yeah, especially when you love someone.
Me: Yes, and I do love you.
Greysen, with his head in his hands: Yes, and I do love you too.

And with that, I felt better. Although we know our kids love us, hearing it makes all the difference.

Still Finding My Grace

I'm in the second session of a class called the Circle of Security.  It's a parenting class that has turned out to be a class about how to connect with people.  It has changed my life. 

Most importantly for this story, it has changed my parenting.  I can relate to Greysen on a different level.  I have the permission to just let him feel through life instead of taking on the responsiblity to fix every emotion.  Turns out, the more I let him feel, the better I feel and the better it is for him.  Who knew? 

Although I have so many less instances of feeling hopeless, helpless or just DONE, I still feel this way sometimes.  It happened the other night.  Greysen was up waaay LATE (early?) due to our travels back from a trip to see the MN contingent of the Sweetest Family In All The Land.  It makes for the perfect storm when I'm tired, G is tired and we are scrambling to get back into the swing of things called "Reality." 

After approximately 42.3 MILLION attempts to get me back into his room for water, bug repellent, dinosaur removal, and generally anything-that-will-get-Mama-back-in-there, I LOST it.  Screamed.  Obscenities. Loudly.  My dog barked at me.  Even he knew.  Not good. 

This, of course, does not result in the desired outcome.  Greysen cried, I cried, my dog barked, and I am certain the tenant upstairs quickly typed out his 30-day notice.

And I felt horrible.  I knew it was a mistake immediately after I did it.  I took a breather and held my son for a very long time.  I said I was sorry 42.3 MILLION times until Greysen finally stopped me and said, "I know you're sorry, Mama."  And then I cried more. 

I still get teary just writing this even though I also somehow feel better just admitting it.  And then I read this yesterday.  The internets had me in mind yesterday when this circulated.  http://momastery.com/blog/2015/03/04/grace-good/  And then I thought that maybe some other good Mamas out there might need this sometimes too.  Because I think we're always finding our grace.
 

Yeast and Mushrooms

I love conversations with Greysen where he exhibits that he really is still a 4 year old.  Greysen asked me, out of the blue one day, if I knew what a "funny guy" was.  I told him that of course I knew it was him.  He protested.  "NOOOO, a 'funny guy.'"  Understanding at this point that he meant something other than what he was asking, I looked at him curiously.  He said, "....like yeast or mushrooms."  It dawned on me, "Ooooh, you mean fungi?" 

I tried really hard not to laugh.

Boat Hitch

Papa will be okay.  He was in a horrific car accident this week.  Bruised, concussed, and in pain, but he's gonna be okay.   

His truck, however, is not going to be okay.  He was rear-ended and his truck ended up on top of the vehicle in front of him.  Sideways.  He is quite understandably perplexed about the fate of his truck (he's still a little confused too).  So, Greysen drew him a new truck.  It is complete with protruding parts to "push the other cars away if they get too close."  There are horns that keep cars from the top of the truck, parts to keeping them from all sides and spikes on the tires so he can't slide on the ice.  Most importantly to Opa, though, there is a boat hitch for him to pull his boat to go fishing.

Storyteller

Greysen recieved a book with no words from his cousin Sam for Christmas.  He loves it.  The pictures include dragons and kings and bridges and moats and all the things he already loves.  The greatest thing about this book, though, is that we get to talk while we "read" the book. I requested, "Greysen, can you tell me the story this time."  He began like this, "The illustrator of the story maybe wanted us to be scared that a monster will come out of these doors." 

"Illustrator?  Did you just say 'illustrator'? Where did you learn that word?" 

In an exasperated voice, "Do you want me to be the storyteller or what?" 

Resurrection

I am resurrecting the almost-dead and buried blog I once regularly wrote.  I am not making any promises about how long this will last but for those of you (my family) who will actually read it, I am excited to have a venue to share. 

Here's to 2015 and new beginnings!

Deep Stuff (Besides the Snow)

I have been attending a parenting class entitled Circle Of Security every Tuesday for 4 weeks now.  It's a commitment for another 5 weeks; two hours each week. While it's not a How-To Guide To Parenting, it is intended to help you connect with your child in ways that will help them feel more secure well into their adult lives.  And ya gotta be ready to learn a bit about yourself too and how you were parented ... It's deep stuff.  

I recently had the opportunity to practice the most important point I've learned thus far - acknowledging and "being with" Greysen through his emotions.  It sounds more complicated than it really is (or maybe not).  It's really about just labeling the emotion your little one is feeling, especially when they don't really know what it is.  Then let him feel it instead of trying to change it.  The very common reaction from a parent is generally to talk them out of the emotion.  You know the deal ... In response to their protestations about certain things: "There's nothing to be afraid of in the dark." "Oh you like school." "Oh, swimming lessons are fun."

Last weekend, Greysen started swimming lessons for the first time.  He's been swimming with me and his Dada multiple times so I know that he likes it.  For some reason though, he protested swimming. "I can't go swimming because I'm a taratula and tarantulas can't swim."  "I can't swim because I'm a T-Rex and they have really short arms."  In an attempt to talk him into enjoying swimming lessons instead of avoiding them, my response in the past would have been: "Oh, I know there are some T-Rex's that swam really well. And there is a special kind of tarantula that swims too."

Instead, this time, I responded, "Greysen, sometimes swimming lessons can be really scary.  Mama was scared of swimming lessons when I was your age.  Do you feel scared?"  Greysen's whole body posture changed.  He seemed to collapse into himself.  He responded: "Yes, I'm scared. I don't want to go in the water without my arm floaties.  And I don't want to swim without you."  Turns out he had all the wrong ideas about what swimming lessons were and what he'd have to do there.  And I learned that I had the wrong idea about how to respond to his emotions.

We talked more about how scary it was for Mama when I was his age and how sometimes learning new things are scary.  And then I told him that they can be fun too.  And that we'll just take it one step at a time and we'll make sure to do only what he's comfortable doing. 

By the time we got into the car to head to swimming lessons, Greysen told me he was going to be brave and get into the water.  When we got there, he went straight to the edge ready to jump in without arm floaties and without me.  The conversation gave him a whole new level of confidence that I didn't anticipate.  And it made me feel that much more connected to my little guy; something worth every minute I spend attending this class.   

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO ...

The other night, I read Greysen a book before bed, something we do every night, without fail.  Sometimes it's one book, sometimes it's 5.  But we never miss it.  I love it as much as he.  This is why ...

We read Pete The Cat Loves Valentine's Day.  Pete The Cat couldn't figure out how to make Valentine's cards for his friends. Pete's Mama suggested that he make something that reflects what he likes about all his friends. 

After the book, I asked Greysen to share with me the nice things he likes about his friends.  We went through the list: "Henry likes to laugh with me," "Bennett likes to play cool things with me," "Bennett (other one) is always nice to me even though we don't play together," "Cameron bes nice to me too," "Evelyn likes to pick me up," "Oma (his Grandma) likes to talk nice to me," "Opa (Grandpa) plays with me," "Cassie lets me sit on her lap sometimes. I miss Cassie; when cam I see her again?" "Jessie talks nice to me," "Sam lets me play with his toys," "Uncle Dave says funny things to me," "Mike does this (imitates a noise and a tickle) and I like that," "Mama always loves me," "Dada teaches me things," "Laurie messes my hair like this (imitates it)." The list went on and on; these were just a few.

I love the insight this conversation gave me about how Greysen interacts with his peeps and what he notices about them. Even I didn't readily recognize some of these things that he so quickly observed about each of these people.  It was a glimpse into the person he's becoming.  I'm so proud to say that I'm his Mama.  

Hi there.  I'm not sure if anyone is out there anymore.  But I think it's time I start blogging again.  Stay tuned ...

L is for Lights

I keep calling this the Wonder of Lights picture. We put up our Christmas tree yesterday and decorated it while Greysen was sleeping. When he awoke, we took him and placed him in front of the sparkly Christmas tree. This is how he looked at the tree: I, the certifiable scrooge, can admit that seeing this wonder in the eyes of my child is quite magical....

K is for Karma, Kismet

I got the job! I think my last post did it for me - got me all the karma and kismet I needed. And happened to make it easy to post for K. Thanks Internets!

J is for Job

I have an interview for a new Job on Monday. I am hoping by telling the Internets about this, I will relieve some nerves and get some good karma coming my way. Please freely send karma my way, friends. And luck too; luck is always good.

Stay tuned.

I in for Interest

Greysen has a profound Interest in books these days. I think most of the recent photos we have of him are with a book in hand. Some of them, he reads better than we can.

Behold:

P.S. Could SOMEONE teach me how to post pics without these weird spaces and odd placement?

H is for Halloween

Greysen already loves Halloween just like his Mama and Dada. Cassie bought him a Halloween book that he loves ALMOST as much as his Little Blue Truck book. Any book about a truck who is friends with ducks, horses and frogs that helps a dump truck get out of the mud is bound to be the fave in this house.

Greysen is going to be Raggedy Andy doll for Halloween this year. I think it'll be a cute, fun, easy outfit. And it's one that I won't get away with dressing my child as for very long. As soon as he wants to pick out his own outfits, I am certain a doll will not be the choice.

And Andrew and I are going to be the old washed-up has-been parents of Raggedy Andy doll - maybe Raggedy Becky and Andy. Ratted hair, too much makeup, cleavage, smoking cigs, etc ... Got any other ideas about how to make this look legit?

I will undoubtedly post pics of Greysen but I don't know yet whether our pics will be blog-worthy.

G is for Gay

I was telling the story yesterday of Greysen getting a cold this past week while we were traveling for my Gramma's funeral. And I said to a co-worker, "I can't get him to stop kissing people on the mouth, so, of course, he got sick. And then he probably infected everyone he kissed as well."

The co-worker responded, with a chuckle, "Wouldn't it be funny if Greysen turned out to be flaming Gay?"

I didn't know how to respond. How does one respond to this question? It raised so many questions and so many responses, that I was stunned into a non-response. That just isn't like me.

Relatedly, yesterday was the official end to the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy of the military in the U.S. Witness history and be proud that the U.S. can look beyond this irrelavant personal detail. The question was, for this situation and for the instance of my co-worker making that comment, "What does it matter?"

F is for Family

My Gramma, Marie Martell, died last week, Sept. 8, 2011. She held on, despite not having eaten or taken her meds for the week prior, until my Mama and I arrived to say goodbye. She died an hour later.

To honor the life of this cute and feisty lady, our whole Family gathered at the church in Wishek, North Dakota. It's the first time the cousins had been together since my Grandpa passed away 24 years ago. Gramma was never one to travel far or wide but was always wherever her Family could be found. She would have been so happy to see us all together in one place.


I hope the smile that has been missing from your face in your latest days has found you again Gramma. I love you, I miss you. Rest in peace.

E is for Exploded

I initially planned to call this post Eloquent. It is a bit of a stretch to call Greysen's speech eloquent. However, it is not a stretch to say that his speech has Exploded in the last week or so. He now talks in sentences and we can actually have short conversations about rocks and food and toys, mostly trucks and airplanes.

While we drove in the car, and Greysen in his carseat, from Wishek, ND to Dickinson, ND a couple days ago (a subject I will write about in the next post), Cassie asked Greysen what he'd like to eat in addition to what he'd already (barely) eaten. She said, "What else do you want?" And Greysen responded, referring to his carseat, "I want out."

This morning Greysen threw a temper tantrum (nope, we aren't spared from those) and whipped his head backward right into my nose. I put him down while I reeled from the pain. Greysen stopped his tantrum and followed me as I sat on the stairs. He put his hand on my arm and said, "Mama, hurt." And then he pointed to himself when Andrew asked me what happened and he said, "Greysen" in his pained, scrunched-up, hurt face. He was acknowledging that he hurt me.

He can count to 10 by himself, sings every single word of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star by himself and in the right tune and he sings over and over his A,B, C's up to J and then ends it with (in the right tune), "Now I know my A, B's."

Is it any wonder that I can't keep up with this? SHEESH!

The comprehension amazes me. I know he understands more than he can speak. So the smarts of this kid is, by far, already surpassed his Mama. And it'll only get better ...

D is for DIRT

The Jakes' camped but one measley time this summer ... well, 2 if you count the backyard campout. We don't ...

We went to an access spot near Helena hoping to cut down on the time traveling to the spot and instead just finally get to enjoy some relaxing time doing what we love to do.

Greysen recently decided to push limits; trying to redefine boundaries; like the one where we've prohibited eating Dirt. He thinks that one is unreasonable. Handfuls of Dirt are Delicious.

We had a great time regardless and hope that next summer we will have many more dog days of summer to wile away next to a stream where the rocks are so great that we can't even bear to throw them.

Cassie-Care

Cassie takes care of Greysen every day while we are at work. We have never had to worry about child care. And we feel so very lucky. I could fill this whole blog about stories of Cassie-care kids. There are five kids (not all at once) who are lucky enough to have Cassie love them. And boy does she love them.

Cassie has to run upstairs every now and then. And there is no way, with just one person, she can keep an eye on the kiddos while she's gone. This particular time, when things got suddenly quiet downstairs, she knew trouble was a-brewing. She was pleasantly surprised when she found this instead ...

Bennett, Emerson, Greysen and Dylan quietly reading their books and surprising the heck out of everyone. The only little one missing here is Parker. She's the little lady and seems to rule the others.








Commonly, the kiddos spend their time looking out the door window trying to convince Cassie they need not eat, sleep, or play inside. They love to be outside and even pine over the outdoors when they are inside. Cassie often hears, "Big truck," "hi" (to passersby), "Rain, rain go way," "deer." They get outside almost every day unless the weather doesn't allow. In the winter, this is quite the feat cuz they all get dressed in their snowsuits and by the time the last kid is dressed, the first couple have had multiple meltdowns. I can't imagine the challenge on a regular basis.


I can't even take credit for the pics in this post. It's another perk of the Cassie-care arrangement. The pics are here, like many things in the daily care of the kiddos, all thanks to Cassie.

B is for Boogers

The summer finally hit here in li'l ol' Helena and it has been D.R.Y. I forgot how dry it can get because we've had such a wet May, June, even July. And then August hit and the dried Boogers clung to the inside of noses everywhere.

Including Greysen's nose. And it's for this reason alone that he has become a nose-picker. Right? Okay, maybe truth be told, the whole family has been witnessed picking boogers in these dry times. Can't leave those dry nasty things to interrupt the flow of good ol' (forest-fire-filled) mountain air into the lungs.

The other day Greysen was picking voraciously. He stopped and said, "Help. Nose." I responded, "Do you have boogers?" "Yeah," he responded. I asked, "You need help getting them out?" He said, "Boogers. Out." So, like the good Mama who will also be witnessed one day wetting my hands and pasting down his hair (or encouraging it to stand taller, as it is these days), I picked his booger.

It took some wrangling but in the end I produced a HUGE ball of green, dry booger. I said, "Is that better?" Greysen responded, "Better. Da doo (thank you)." And he went about his merry way.