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Showing posts with label parenting soul. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting soul. Show all posts

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Where Papa? I will call him again.



It's been a big day. People are TIRED. People are nursing. People are watching Superman.


Ivo, Burl and I went to see Alison and Tessa today. We played in the park, practiced pedaling, drank tea and then went up to Alison's house. Alison got Ivo a 2-tiered pin-wheel, which he's calling a windmill. Nice. Nice breeze today. Still HOT.


We got home around 4. While we were out Ryan handled repairmen, the leak and the light that's pulling the wires out of the wall. Yay! We are all fixed up.


Ivo had a bath and his semi-regular-bi-weekly hair wash. There were SCEEEEEAAAAMS. Nights before Ivo goes to school, I sometimes wonder how we might appear to other people. Ivo hates hair washing and we hate making him scream. We are illiterate foreigners who eat weird food, smell funny and send breast milk (ick!) to school. I don't really care what anyone thinks as long as social services isn't brought into the picture. That is seriously unlikely here... and mostly Ivo's hair washes and baths occur the night before school (formerly the baby sitter) because it's a good time marker, "What! It's been a week???" But I do want to call as little negative attention as possible to us. I'm sure everyone does this to some extent, like straightening up before the maid arrives or flossing before a dentist checkup. Last week, I forgot the kids' communication books and Karin said, "Oh, you're that family." So now I'm all focused on this... this whatever it is, this fear that discernable slip ups are obvious signs of real trouble, the tip of a massive ice berg, and I'm ruining my babies.
It's ok now. When naked, wet Ivo came up to bed, he haltingly said "I sad." He's happy now, holding his superman doll, watching superman, occasionally singing da dada daaa! He just called Ryan on my cell phone, ostensibly to ask Papa to bring him his pinwheel/windmill, impressively he made lengthy appropriate nicenice small talk, hung up well and then commenced to push all sorts of buttons. Earlier this evening, he'd dialed Dale, telling me - and fully believing - he was calling Papa. So I asked him to please give me my phone, he said "Okaaay, just a miiinute" while still pushing buttons. A few moments later he handed it to me screen side up, saying "Der you go. All zeroes." The entire screeen was filled with zeroes. Keee-yute!


There's been a sea change: He's in Grammie Gail's room decompressing (cuz of yelling and orneriness), Ryan went in to check on him, "get out a he-re!" And he's back, "I no angwy anymore. I no fwustwated."


And he drank a good amount of water. Yay!

Friday, August 31, 2007

Pics from Taipei 101

















+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Still the tallest building in the world - just a couple hours from home.





These pics are the last of the lot I meant to post from our Taipei trip Mon-Tues. Things I forgot to remember here:

  • Ivo was sooooo happy in the hotel room, he ran/bounced around the room eventually head-crashing into a heavy wood sofa - he has a yellowish lump on his forehead
  • Ivo saw a poor soul begging outside the Shi Lin Market; he was prostrating himself, repeatedly hitting his head on the ground, jangling a bowl scant with coins (a common mannerism among Asia's physically handicapped destitutes). Ivo gasped and asked What dat? Ryan told him that the man is asking for money. After a pause, a disturbed Ivo said, He no have fingers... Aiy Aiy. Ryan said he'll never forget that interaction. It's so hard. I barely know how to handle the destitute-homeless-physically handicapped; I gave plentifully (food, money) my first year in NYC, 1987-88. And certainly, handling or how to conduct oneself while passing by desperate people who are clearly not faking, is only one piece of the puzzle. I have trouble reconciling being a have co-existing with so many have-nots. And one of the least satisfactory things adults ever handed me was the "life's not fair" cliche. Talk about "life's not fair." What should we teach Ivo and Burl about the awful roll-of-the-dice capriciousness of luck in life and HOW do we do it? I don't want them to be crippled by compassion nor do I want them to become Calvinist-trickle-down monsters.