Tag: rondel

Posted in musings

thoughts and worries of a distracted mind

Posted on by kristinabean

I’ve been thinking a lot about a few topics lately, none of which have made for suitable blog posts.

First, I’ve been very actively consumed by an off-the-record project I’m attempting for my job (basically, I’m trying to develop a database and website for our team, for essentially no cost, using only my own skills and whatever products are accessible for free or close to it. It’s difficult, time-consuming, and addictively enjoyable).

Second, I’ve been noticing how my hormonal cycle still affects my depression even with the Zoloft. And when I’m exhausted and down for a week or so out of every month, I feel like I spend the rest of the month digging myself back out of a hole. Still, it’s much better than being continually tired and depressed!

Finally, I’ve been concerned – or maybe nervous is a better word – about Rondel. His quality of speech hasn’t improved over the past year or so (although his language development has, which would be a greater problem), and may have even declined over the past six months. For people who don’t know him, he is a challenge to understand at all, and even I have to ask him to repeat himself if I can’t see his face or the context of his speech. He’s also had some anxiety or behavioral issues – it’s difficult to tell which may be causing the other, or if they’re both just feeding each other – that have made it increasingly difficult to take the kids out. On a good day he’s sweet, loving, funny, imaginative, energetic, and helpful; on a bad day he’s impulsive, defiant, silly in a “let’s make breaking the rules into a game” sort of way, aggressive, and clingy. And the bad days seem to be getting more frequent, and I never know what sort of day it’s going to be. But in my mind I’m just endlessly walking the treadmill of worry, and that doesn’t make for great reading 🙂 So we’re waiting to have him evaluated, and hopefully that will be profitable. Actually, I wouldn’t mind prayers to that effect!

But it has been a while, and we’re finally starting to settle into the semester and the new house, so hopefully you will see a lot more posts on here soon! I keep reminding myself that I need to write things down or else I’m going to forget them all when the kids have their own families and are wondering how far the apple fell from the tree…

Posted in family life

to saw or to claw?

Posted on by kristinabean

Rondel’s imagination and creativity have been accelerating exponentially these days, with the rather amusing side effect of turning him into a small hilarious lawyer with regards to our house rules. Case in point: after watching me saw half an inch off of my closet rod this afternoon, he found his small plastic saw and scoured the house searching for things to pretend to saw. Naturally, one of the things he found was his brother, and he started “sawing” Limerick’s neck with his toy.

Now, I love for the boys to wrestle and play rough with each other – it lets them get their physical energy out and teaches them to modulate their expression of it since being too violent would end the fun with tears and conflict. And I don’t have any problem with them “sword-fighting” with random objects, taking turns being the “good guy” or “friendly monster” and fighting away the “bad guy” or “scary monster.” But I really didn’t feel comfortable with Rondel pretending to saw his brother. In retrospect, I can’t say why for sure! In the moment, however, I asked him to stop and told him he could saw anything he wanted but not people, because real saws would never be used on people.

He acquiesced amicably (he usually does when I have some sort of reason he doesn’t have a comeback for), but about five minutes later I saw the saw come out again in a tussle with his brother.

“Rondel!” I remonstrated. “What did I tell you about using the saw on people?”

“I’m not sawing him!” retorted Rondel. “It’s just that I’m a Therizinosaurus and I’m using the saw to be my pretend claw!”

Well then.

I know this is the moment where I’m supposed to go all spirit-of-the-law… but I just felt proud! First, he was playing pretend, using the props at hand to construct a vivid imaginary world. Second, he was recalling rather esoteric information that we’d discovered while reading together (Therizinosaurus has the longest claws of any known dinosaur) and working it into his play, which is one of the best ways to cement knowledge. And finally, he was cognizant of my request not to pretend to saw people and was actually being quite respectful of it, even while doing essentially the same physical action I had put a stop to before!

And honestly, because it was the thought of sawing people and not the physical act of thumping someone gently with a piece of plastic shaped like a saw that had bothered me in the first place, I didn’t mind what he was doing at all.

Posted in family life, musings

a tale of two mothers

Posted on by kristinabean

She walks briskly down the path, then stops and waits, impatiently beckoning to her young son to hurry up. Her words are sharp and her tone irritated, as though his slowness is an almost unbearable weight for her. Oblivious to the beauties around them, the pair slowly make their way down the trail in fits and starts, both of them belligerent, frustrated, and stressed.

A boy and his mother walk down a trail through woods near a creek, the water making a background song to their hike. They walk slowly, noticing the diversity of plant life surrounding them, examining the different shapes and textures of the leaves. The mother isn’t trying to make her son walk faster, but to engage him more deeply in the moment and place.

What differentiates these two mothers? What leads one to put the immediate task (reaching a destination) at a higher priority, despite the frustration of trying to control another person and ending up at cross purposes? What makes the other choose connection and relationship over speed and accomplishment? Is it personality, or character, or circumstance?

It is purely and simply choice.

I was both of these mothers, in instances just five minutes (and a major apology to Rondel) distant from each other. All that changed was that I remembered who I want to be, and chose to change my course. I was still just as frustrated at his slowness, but realized that I didn’t have to let those things (his slowness, my irritation) hurt our relationship or prevent us from savoring the beauty around us. 

We will never be perfect parents, but we always have the option to choose a better way.

Posted in family life

on the occasion of Rondel’s fourth birthday

Posted on by kristinabean

Four years ago today you were born, little boy, a big baby forced from your comfortable residence within me over your loud protestations. From the beginning you were loud, demanding, and sensitive – and I loved you from the first choked, gut-wrenching sob you let out as they carried you away to suction the mucous and meconium from your nose and lungs. With that cry you sealed your place within my heart: my first born, my love, my delight. For you, I thought, I will sacrifice my sleep, my personal space, my quiet and uninterrupted thoughts.

And now, now that you are four years old, how you have grown and matured from that squalling newborn boy you once were!

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You have an imagination like no other, as if a spring of stories and fantasies lies bubbling up deep within your heart. Every day there are new monsters, fighters, savers, babies, mommies, and daddies peopling the house and going on wild adventures together; you make “movies” (you have no camera to record them) about the things that interest you, anthropomorphizing the sun, moon, and stars to perform for you; you create crazy games with Limerick that seem perfectly designed to draw out the core of joy from every moment and experience.

You are filled with a sweet and precious love and care for the small and vulnerable, which most typically displays itself in a flood of hugs and kisses for every baby in your vicinity. At a friend’s house a few days ago, there were three babies crawling around the room and you blissfully rotated from one to another, round and round, giving them all your affection in turn. And when your sister cries, you run to her with toys and games and laughter to bring back a smile to her face.

You are still sensitive to loud sounds, bright lights, and large groups of people – you probably always will be. But you are learning to cope, to regulate your own environment and your reaction to the uncontrollable aspects of it, and I am proud of you for the efforts you make to fit in and be with people (as your social self craves) when the sensory input of it all can be overwhelming.

Yours is an age of big feelings and intense fears; a broken toy or the thought of a favorite food going bad can bring you close to tears, and the prospect of being alone in your bedroom at night terrifies you. In those moments I am reminded of how young you still are, despite your height, your intelligence, and your maturity – you are just barely four years old, and it is your undeniable right to be scared by the world whose vastness and hiddenness you are just beginning to understand, and to express the emotions that flood your mind without years of experience to help filter and process them. It is also the age at which I am beginning to notice in you a desire to make others happy and proud by your actions, along with the first flickers of conscious guilt or shame. And I hope, my son, that you never become ashamed of what you feel and who you are, because even in your lowest moments (and we all have them, and they do not define us) I see you in all your beauty, just the way you are, and I love you with all of my heart.

Posted in family life

how babies are made

Posted on by kristinabean

“It was Spring.
The leaves burst out.
The flowers burst out.
And robins burst out of their eggs.”

“How are the baby robins made?”

“The mommy robin makes the baby in the egg inside herself and then keeps the eggs warm and safe while the babies grow big enough.”

That answer would have been enough a few months ago. Now there’s a pause – this clearly didn’t answer his real question.

“But how does the mommy robin make the baby?”

Oh shoot. I guess there’s a reason they call it “the birds and the bees”…

“Well, a special cell from the mommy robin – called an egg cell – meets up with a special cell from the daddy robin – called a sperm cell – and they combine to make a brand new cell that grows and grows into a baby robin. Baby birds grow inside eggs just like baby Aubade grew inside Mommy.”

Pause. He looks like it makes sense to him but he’s still thinking it over… I’m hoping this is all the information he needs and I open my mouth to start reading the book again.

“How did Mommy make baby Aubade?”

“The same way a mommy robin makes her babies! An egg cell from Mommy and a sperm cell from Daddy got together to make a new cell that grew and grew, forming Aubade’s shape and organs until she was big enough to be born.”

Then I quickly kept reading before he could ask how the sperm and egg cells found each other!

Posted in family life, musings

a bedtime routine

Posted on by kristinabean

Lights turn off for bedtime. The small flashlight flickers on but it’s not enough to play by, not enough to hide the scary shadows of a child’s imagination. I don’t stop to argue, don’t invite the protests, tonight. The baby is fed and warm in her daddy’s arms so I linger with the big boys, so tough and independent in the bright daytime light, all full of fears and doubts and unnamed dreads in the dark. I lie down on the bottom bunk and feel the lithe warm body of a little boy press against my back, strong and wiry and small and vulnerable in the drowsiness of just-before-sleep.

Softly, in the dark, I hear the gentle murmur of a snore, and I peek over my shoulder to see him lying there asleep, empty sippy cup tucked in against his elbow, Grandma’s handmade quilt pulled up over his belly, legs poking out the side with the knees up and the feet tucked under my hip. I sneak out of the room. I am eager to have some time with my own thoughts, to create, to be, without any demands or expectations on my time.

But there is still the food from dinner to be put away; the dishes are done but the food, too hot before, was waiting until after the bedtime rush, and as I scoop the leftovers into Tupperware, mindlessly, inefficiently, trying to read a book at the same time, I hear the baby crying, waking up for a last feed before settling into the deep sleep of nighttime.

I pick her up, lay her next to me on the bed, and she curls into me, little hands reaching for me, little feet tucking themselves into the curve of my belly, little mouth open and eager, little tear-stained eyes sleep-heavy and drooping closed. Her frantic energy lessens, breathing calmed, until at last I roll her back over to her crib. For a moment her whole body drapes across mine and I feel that soft cheek pressed up against me, the total trust and relentless love of an infant for their mother, and I’m the mother, and it hardly seems real, scarcely seems believable, like the whole crazy world is just too beautiful to be possible.

Most nights I stay here, worn out myself, caught up in the sweet beauty of the love a mother receives from sleepy children in need of snuggles and presence, unable to stop watching a baby or a toddler or a preschooler still and peaceful at long last, barely daring to breathe lest it all fall apart, amazed that such a life could be mine. But tonight I pull myself up. There are words to write, pictures to curate, cookies and milk to be eaten, and thoughts to be wrung out from ethereal unformed space to concrete actuality on the screen of my computer.

Posted in family life

blossoming creativity: Rondel at almost-four

Posted on by kristinabean

I have decided that Rondel’s current age (almost four) must be one of my favorites.

His energy levels are becoming more consistent even if he doesn’t nap; his clingy, angry, defiant moods are decreasing; his silliness is developing some sophistication; his conversation and presence are more often than not interesting and enjoyable; and, most of all, his imagination has exploded like a firework. This, I keep thinking, is how I imagined parenting a young child to be.

Pretty much anything can be a source of inspiration to him, but the books he reads have a large influence on his play. After reading The Magic School Bus In the Time of The Dinosaurs, he built a mother and baby Maiasaura (and deviated from the biological reality by having the baby nurse… what can I say, he’s used to mammalian norms 🙂 ). After reading The Magic School Bus Inside the Human Body, he invented a game (the Body Game) where we move through the house between spaces that represent different parts of the human body – a blood vessel underneath a red blanket on the bunk bed, for instance, or the stomach under another blanket on the floor so we can have it mush us up like food. Then, of course, because he’s a three-year-old, we always have to end up getting pooped out into a potty with all the pillows and stuffies that are the “actual” poop.

Play that began as constructing a slide down the stairs with all the pillows from the beds turns into slides that bury people and then become mountains to climb back up. What started as the realization that Aubade’s crocheted blanket could be hooked onto the handle of the armoire door becomes a blanket bridge stretching from the armoire door (behind which is Grandma’s house) to the bedroom door, across which a monster truck carries our family from our house to Grandma’s house and back again, and into which is randomly stuck a bright orange toothbrush. Cups stacked up in the sink are rearranged to spray the water out in jets at various angles and the whole thing is proclaimed a volcano. Rondel bursting forth from beneath a blanket (after much preliminary rolling around) is also deemed the eruption of a volcano.

And every time we read Where the Wild Things Are, he has to have a monster at hand ready to read the story with us. Not wanting to shut down his imagination despite the onset of bedtime a few nights ago, I allowed him to build his monster to his complete satisfaction, helping him scour the house for the parts he needed.

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The folded front of the box is its mouth, and the links are legs connecting the feet (my shoes) to the head (the box). You can’t see, but inside the box more links are holding up a Slinky which is the digestive system of said monster 🙂 He was so proud of himself for designing and building it all by himself!

I absolutely love this creativity.

Posted in family life

a vignette

Posted on by kristinabean

On Saturday my parents-in-law watched the kids for a few hours so we could have some time to celebrate our anniversary, and they brought a few activities with them to occupy the time. One of the toys they had found was a wooden bowling set, with a small wooden ball about the size of an orange and six (I think) wooden pins with different color stripes around the neck.

After understanding how the game worked, and attempting to knock over the pins with the wooden ball a few times (without much success), Rondel set the wooden ball down on the table, walked over to the toy shelf, and came back with a basketball… not surprisingly, it worked much better!

Meanwhile, Limerick spent his time lining up the pins in perfectly straight rows, organized by the color of the stripe on each one.

Neither of my boys are “typical” kids, but they deviate from the norm in very different ways! As my in-laws put it, and as this one situation demonstrated, Rondel is an out-of-the-box thinker, while Limerick is an organizer and categorizer to his core. And I can’t imagine my life now without either one of their quirky personalities.

Posted in family life

being loved

Posted on by kristinabean

Tonight at dinner, to forestall the usual request to read a Magic School Bus book (good books, but we’ve been on serious repeat mode here and they’re still a bit over Limerick’s head so he gets left out), I brought down one of our children’s Bibles and read a few stories from there.

As we read the story of King Solomon, I asked the boys what they would ask for if God said He would give them anything they wanted. What would you want most?

Without hesitation, Rondel answered, “Mommy!”

And then, “And baby.”

To say I was touched would be an understatement. I am so blessed to be loved so much by my sweet boy – and especially when the depression is telling me that everyone would be better off if someone else was filling my place, it’s extremely validating to have such deep and unconditional love given to me.

Posted in family life

fighting the terrible Jiboo

Posted on by kristinabean

“And what would you do
If you met a Jiboo?”

I’m reading Dr. Seuss’s Oh the Thinks You Can Think for our bedtime story, at Rondel’s request, and because the baby’s already sleeping instead of tiredly fussing in my lap, I’m letting the boys’ comments and questions slow the story down. I pause here to let them answer the question posed by the book, a dark shadowy creature standing on a moonlit street on the pages before us.

“I would knock it over!” Rondel proclaims.

“What if it is friendly?” I ask. “Do you think Jiboos are friendly or scary?”

Rondel looks at me uncertainly, pondering.

“Maybe if they are friendly they like playing games, so you can knock them over in a fun way,” I suggest.

“No, they don’t like games. They don’t like anything.” Rondel declares.

“What do they do?” I ask. “Do they chase people and gobble them up?”

He nods, solemnly (this isn’t our first time through the book… he’s decided Jiboos are man-eaters long before now).

“That’s scary!” I say. “I would run away and hide, then, if I saw a Jiboo.”

“I would take its head off so it couldn’t eat anyone!”

“Wow, you are so brave! You would be the hero, then – you would rescue everyone from being eaten by the Jiboo!”

“I am brave!” His shoulders lift a little – I can see the idea of being the brave hero, the defender of the weak, taking root in his mind; he is thinking about the goodness of force when used for justice and protection, though of course not in so many words.

I used to be uneasy discussing violence and physical force with the boys. Well, to be honest, I still am uncomfortable with it. I don’t want them to rely on violence to solve their problems or settle their disputes, and I definitely don’t want them glorifying brute force. But I do want them to grow up into men who intervene when a woman is harassed or objectified, who protect the weak, who stand up for the oppressed, who would be willing to lay down their lives for the innocent. So when they express courage in the service of others, even if it’s in very physical ways or just in their hypothetical imaginary worlds, I want to encourage that. We can dive into the nuances of non-violence as they get older and see that power comes in many forms. For now, they can fight the Jiboos to protect those who can’t fight for themselves.