Week of March 24, 2004
"I don't want to go to Di's house"
"I want SteveNValerieNSasha"
"I want MaggieNBella"
Suggesting we see Maggie: "That's a good idea, let's go see Maggie"
(whereupon he ran to his train cases and started packing up)
"I have two dragons!"
"I cut egg with spoon"
"Look at my eggs! They hatched baby chicks"
"I want a chocolate valentine heart"
"What are you doing?"
"Mummy/Daddy lie down/sit/go away"
"Bossy boots!"
"I want a haircut!"Song of the week: "Old John Bradelum" of the Wiggles.
a.k.a. "The funny song!" - one we like, but it's short and wearing thin. At least it's a break from Piglet's Big Movie.
At risk of sounding like a broken record, Owen's verbal ability is growing at an exponential rate. He's moved beyond understanding what we're saying, and using short sentences, to actually conversing in longer ways. Sometimes it's with a longer sentence, sometimes with a stringing together of many shorter sentences. At the same time, his comprehension is also leaping ahead, with Owen responding correctly in spite of my sloppy communication (i.e., using big words without thinking).A recent interaction with Noah (our one cat who spends time near Owen):
"Noah has soft fur" (pet, pet).
"Noah has two ears" (poke) Noah moves away.
"Where is Noah going?" (Noah runs off, tired of the vigorous petting.)
"Wait, wait!" Owen chants, as he runs after him. A minutes goes by.
"I can't find him. Noah is hiding"His observations are more of a complete chronicle of his thoughts and feelings, and they have a more vivid and spontaneous feel. It's as though he's been digesting all our words, and now has appropriated them for his own use. He's not a parrot, but a thoughtful conversationalist.
The conversation varies, sometimes it feels more sophisticated than other times. Certainly there are periods where Owen is happy to grunt or use single syllables, or even to tune us out when we're talking to him. He's still just a toddler/boy. I just can't believe that he can be as interactive and intelligent as he is sometimes. Is this the heart-wrenching glimpse of the independence which will someday take him out of our circle forever? Will we have some tiny piece of him, at least, that doesn't dread seeing us but actually loves us? Or is that too much to hope for…
What's strange about Owen's chatting is that it happens almost exclusively with us. I mean, he'll speak around others but he doesn't speak his longer and more complex thoughts around anyone but us. He's cagey and acts very much like a younger boy around other people. For a long time he was almost mute in company, slipping up only when he was really relaxed (and even then, it would mostly be dialogue with his trains). He talks a bit more now than he used to, but no where near the level of himself at home. And I wonder if people think we're making it all up, as they listen to the sometimes unintelligible sentences that we know are just evocations of Thomas the Tank Engine stories. We don't expect him to be all that understandable when he's reliving the stories, and alas, most people don't see the rest.
Our favorite sentence of the week:
"Look at my eggs, they hatched baby chicks!"
Owen found some plastic eggs of several sizes, and he's been getting enormous pleasure from taking them apart and putting them back together, and pretending to cut them with the handle of an old baby spoon that he found. One morning when we had a tough night, Scott went out to get Owen a bagel and an egg (he loves them from Bruegger's, otherwise he's pretty lukewarm on eggs). He was delighted, and rushed off to show his "real" egg to his plastic eggs. Very cute. Now I feel compelled to search out a little chick that will fit into one of his eggs so he can re-enact real hatching. I expect once he discovers chocolate in some of his eggs in his Easter basket, hatching will be irrelevant. After all, we're still hearing most days:
"I want a chocolate valentine heart"
One day this past weekend, while I was relaxing in bed (all too rare), Owen managed to gather up all the cans of catfood and stack them. He set a new record for himself: 26 cans! They were waiting for me, when I came back downstairs.
He's also managed to climb onto the bureau at Di's house. We'll sit him there when we put his shoes on when we pick him up. Di told them all they were heading for the backyard, and Owen was so thrilled (he loves being outside) that he scooted up and waited for his shoes to be put on. He hasn't been a terrible climber thus far, but he's been practicing climbing into his crib by himself, so I suspect we're hitting a new plateau. As long as he doesn't investigate getting out by himself!
Our favorite reading material this week (aside from Thomas) are his Bunny books by Alan Baker. We often have to carry them from car to home to car to home. He particular likes the alphabet one (painting a picture of a 'big juicy apple") and the shapes book (featuring balloons).
For TV viewing, we've been doing bits of this and bits of that. We took out Green Eggs and Ham from the library and that's been a fun companion to the book. He also enjoyed a Richard Scarry video which does my heart good, being I was such a fan of his books (I still like them!). I find it a bit eerie that Owen has taken to so many stories and videos that I myself love. I skew the odds, he mainly sees what I like. Although Boobah slips through occasionally (yuck) and he's not fond of the Koala Brothers (he likes the song). I'm happy that he likes Pooh, and Lilo and Stitch, and Monsters Inc., and the books that I choose. My mother picked a lot of things that appealed to her aesthetic sensibilities, but weren't exactly to my taste. I hope I do a little better with Owen. I hope that I can find a way to introduce him to Ant & Bee. My copies are treasured, so much that I'm not sure I can let him hold them. And yet I want him to know them, and feel sad they're out of print (curses). Hmm, I just looked online and found them for anywhere form $9+$12 shipping each from the U.K., to individual prices of $300 each. Yikes. Maybe I'll be thinking about using a color copier!
Do other people feel the sense of loss, and poignancy that comes with raising children?
I was holding Owen last night when he was inconsolable, and after a long hour or so, I finally felt him relax against my chest. It was so satisfying, and I thought how unique this feeling is in my life: to be able to comfort someone so completely. To be utterly needed, and to have a primitive, complete answer. This must be what mothers pine for when it's gone, what they miss most when their kids are independent and one step from locking themselves in their rooms: the time when they have the answer, and are truly useful and needed. What could be more joyful than holding a child who is snuggling into you, relaxed and cozy, or even falling asleep? When your kids are very young, the solace of your arms is sometimes all it takes to make life good again. And tears are replaced with gentle, rhythmic breathing. Need and love mingle, and there's a lot of joy in the symbiosis.
There are many things I can't do, but I can snuggle with a toddler, and in the middle of the night, make him feel better.
This helps balance all the times when I feel useless, wrung out from a night terror or a tantrum, when I feel as powerless and inarticulate as he must feel. But last night, my arms felt strong and safe, and I felt proud to be Owen's mother.
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