We’ve always referred to Braydon as “Papi” in our family, but the boys have long referred to other kids fathers as their “Daddies.” They understand that other people use the word “Daddy” to mean the same thing that our word “Papi” means. They’ll often say things like, “My Daddy is my Papi” or “Papi is my Daddy.” Although K & O — like most young children in the U.S.A. — have unfortunately been bombarded with the mythology/symbolism/rhetoric/ideology/imagery of the ‘nuclear family,’ we go way out of our way to be clear that not all families resemble the culturally dominant Mommy-Daddy-and-children portrait. They know, for example, that some kids live with just a mom, or just a dad, or just their grandma/grandpa/etc., etc., etc. And, because of their own history, and our conversations about adoption, they know that some kids don’t have a Mommy or a Daddy or a family at all. Also, because we make it a point to talk about it a lot, and because they’ve been exposed to lots of different kinds of families, the boys fully understand the concept that some kids have “two Mommies” and some kids have “two Daddies.” We went through a phase with Kyle a while back when he would regularly tell us that he wished that instead of having one Mommy and one Papi, he had “two Mommies.” This was during a phase of intense competition between K & O for my attention and affection. During that phase he would mention his wish for “two Mommies” regularly, but there were two times when his explicit verbalization of this wish was particularly pronounced. Both times he discussed this wish (his rational: “…because then Owen could have a Mommy and I could have a Mommy too!”), and he discussed it often (repeatedly, and semi-obsessively for several day stretches at a time). Both times were non-coincidentally on the heels of us having gotten together socially with Two-Mommy-families. About a month ago we spent some time with a Two-Daddy-family but neither K or O seemed to have much to say about that, and Kyle’s intense “two Mommy” phase is long gone. But tonight, totally completely 100% out of the blue, when I was putting Owen to bed he asked me, “Mommy, after you kiss me night night then Papi will come?” (our ritual is that we each say goodnight to a boy and then we switch and say goodnight to the other). I said, “Yes, after I go, then Papi will come.” Owen said, “O.k. Mommy!” He then announced to me matter-of-factly: “I am pretending that I have two Daddies.” I said, “O.k.!” He said, “But I don’t have two Daddies. I have one Mommy and one Daddy. But I am pretending. I am pretending that I have two Daddies.” “O.k.!” I said again, then I kissed him goodnight and his one Papi went into his room to tuck him in.
I can’t seem to get a good photo of it, so this one will have to do. I have to be honest though: This photo does not do it justice — it actually looks a lot worse than it looks in this picture. If Kyle were pale skinned he’d have a really bad ‘black eye’ right now. As it is, it does not look pretty. It is very swollen and bruised. But he is blessed with awesome genes (that Braydon and I can claim no credit for!), and he is a beautiful dark skinned boy, so as far as ‘black eyes’ go Ky Ky’s looks pretty darn good. But looks aren’t everything. The poor child is in pain. We try to keep the Children’s Motrin flowing, but still it is tender and it is sore. He was running a minor fever, which had us worried. But he took 3-hour naps both yesterday and today and so far he checks out o.k., doesn’t seem to have any infection, etc. We’re hoping for a quick recovery so he can get back into the swimming pool ASAP.
2 from O and 1 from K:
This evening after dinner Owen and Kyle were getting their shoes on so they could go outside to help Braydon put the trash at the end of the driveway. With certain shoes now (especially their crocs) the boys are able to put their own shoes on their feet but they often make the classic young-child-mistake of putting the shoes on the ‘wrong’ feet. Lately we’ve been trying to teach them the concepts of ‘right’ vs. ‘left’ re: their shoes/feet and many other things. Tonight Owen had put his shoe on the ‘wrong’ foot and I said to him: “Ooops! That’s the wrong shoe!” Then…
Owen: “That’s the left foot?”
Heather: “Yup!”– [totally surprised that he’s actually correctly using ‘left’] –“That’s the left foot!”
O: [pointing to his right foot] “And that’s the right foot?”
H: “Yes! It is!”
O: “I’m so smart.”This afternoon, partly because of a thunder storm, and partly because of our post-Emergency-Room-Visit-Effort to keep the boys calm and the activities low-key, I did something almost unheard of around here: When I got home from work I suggested to the boys that we watch a video. We were sitting on the couch eating popcorn and watching a Curious George video that involves George riding a rocket into space. (Kyle’s recent OBSESSION with Curious George books and videos will have to be a whole other post someday). Anyway, in the beginning of the video George visits the professor who invented the rocket he will ride into space. The boys had watched this video 3-4 times previously, and Braydon had told them that “Mama is a professor too.” This afternoon when the professor scene began…
O: “My mommy is a professor too.”
H: “Yes.”
O: “Not my Papi.”
H: “No.”
O: “Just my mommy is a professor.”
H: “That’s right.”
O: “I’m so mad at Papi.”
H: “Why? Why are you so mad at Papi?”
O: “I’m so mad at Papi because he’s not a professor!”
I was outside with the boys late this afternoon when Braydon finished working and came out to join us. He walked right up to me and started kissing me a lot. Whenever we kiss for any extended time (not just a quick peck), Kyle and Owen both have the same reaction. They stop everything — whatever they are doing — and just stare at us. Today when Braydon and I were kissing…
Kyle: “Stop! Papi, Papi, stop that! Stop that now! Mommy and Papi, stop that!”
Braydon: “Kyle, I’m kissing your mama.”
K: “Stop that Papi!”
B: “No, I’m kissing your mama because I love her.”
K: “But I don’t like that. Stop that.”
[A few seconds go by…]K: “I AM JEALOUS FROM THAT.”
Last night, around 7:30, we were just finishing up a game of classic memory with the boys when Kyle got a little revved up (memory will do that you know), swung around fast and hit his head on the corner of the coffee table – about a half inch above his right eye. There was quite a bit of blood and a some crying, but the worst part was seeing him writhing in his mommy’s arms with no sound coming out.We ran across the street to our neighbor who is a doctor (and who has raised three boys), but he wasn’t there. His wife looked at it (who did most of the raising part) and thought it looked like a trip to the ER. We decided to go. At least this wasn’t our first trip (this is actually our fourth trip for Ky Ky). The amazing part – Heather agreed to let me take him and she stayed home with Owen.
After applying a little neosporin (to slow clotting), packing some clothes and honey bunny, Kyle and I rushed off to the hospital. To get registered and sit for a three hour wait. No amount of asking, pleading or bullying sped it up. Three hours to have my baby’s eye tended to.
In the world’s richest country, with the worlds most sophisticated medical system, that is a true embarrassment. But who am I kidding – this is capitalism at work.
One good thing – he got to have Macaroni and Cheese (they made him a snack while we waited) and jello.
Finally we saw the doctor. She was very young and also very good. This is what happened:
She came in and Kyle said “What’s your name???” And she told him. Then he said “I’m Kyle”. She asked what happened. “I bang bang bang [with violent head motions] on my head”. “Oh, ouch” she say.
“This may hurt a little, but it’s ok. [and to me] He can stay on your lap, just be sure to hold him”
She proceeded to take some damp gauze, and wipe very firmly on the wound. The bright red blood came off. Then she picked out the eyebrow hair from the cut – one hair at a time. Then she tucked the fatty tissue back into the cut and squeezed the cut shut. The fatty tissue popped out and she tucked is back and and shut the wound.
Kyle didn’t budge. He didn’t cry, he didn’t wince, he didn’t fuss. He took it stoically and calmly. It was incredible.
She then went and got dermabond aka superglue. She spread the wound open again, tucked the fatty tissue back in, and pinched it closed. She broke open the applicator and applied it to the open wound. It was like she was putting clear nail polish (or I suppose super glue) right onto it.
It hurt – it stung – Kyle tried to move her hands away and I had to hold him. But after about 5 seconds, he was fine and said somewhat hopefully “It’s getting better?” “The doctor’s doing a good job?”.
Yes baby, it’s getting better.
After the 10 minute visit, and a Popsicle courtesy of the doctor, we went out, collected our paperwork and went home. It was 11:30 PM. I called Heather from the car to tell her. Kyle asked me who it was. He then said “It’s getting better?” Yes baby, it’s getting better. And he fell deeply asleep in his car seat.
We got home, put him in bed and both had a Bourbon.
Now, granted, this is nothing like what the Livesay’s deal with, but it’s tough none-the-less.
Kyle and Owen have pretended to talk on the phone with each other countless times. But last night was their first real phone call together one-on-one. Kyle was in the waiting room of the hospital Emergency Room with Braydon. Owen was at home with me. Braydon called home to check in. We put Owen and Kyle on the phone alone together. I put it on speaker phone so I could hear:
Kyle: Hi Owen!
Owen: Hi Kyle.
K: Hi Owen! You there Owen?
O: Kyle, I am staying at home.
K: Oh.
O: Kyle, you have a big owie?
K: Yes. I have a bracelet Owen. I have a bracelet. [He’s referring to the hospital admittance bracelet.]O: Oh.
K: Hi Owen!
O: Kyle, I am staying at home. You are at the hospital Kyle?
K: Hi Owen!
O: I miss you Kyle. I love you.
K: I love you too.
O: I love you Kyle. I’m waiting for you at home. You have a big owie?
K: It’s red. It’s red. It’s red Owen.
O: Oh. O.k. Where’s Papi?
K: A PT Cruiser! I saw a PT Cruiser with Papi. [Apparently they had seen a PT Cruiser car during the drive to the hospital.]O: Oh. O.k. Bye.
K: Bye.For “This Post Has No Title I” click here.
This weekend we were in Sam’s Club stocking up for the summer. For those of you who are unfamiliar, Sam’s Club is a large bulk warehouse store similar to Costco, BJs, etc. We recently got a membership to Sam’s Club (it just happens to be the closest to us of those kind of stores). One thing I really like about going to this particular Sam’s Club is that it is extraordinarily racially and socio-economically diverse. Anyway– when we arrived we split up so that we could get in and out faster. I took Owen and one cart, and Braydon took Kyle and another cart. We each set off with our lists, and agreed to meet up in 30 minutes. Just as the 30 minutes ran up, and we were heading to the spot where we were to meet up with Braydon and Kyle, Owen suddenly said “Mommy, I need to go poopie on the potty!” Like any other parent fully in the throws of potty training would, I quickly parked our cart in an isle, grabbed my boy, and ran as fast as I possibly could through the huge gigantic store to find the potty. We made it in time and Owen was — of course — very, very proud. He said, “I need to tell Papi!!!” I said, “Yes!” And as we left the bathroom, he started excitedly running down the main center isle back to where we were to meet up. I was walking quickly following about 5-10 feet behind him. Like I said, this store is very diverse. Literally in that one walk down that center isle I consciously noted that every major racial/ethnic group in the U.S.A. was represented. As we approached about halfway down that main isle I noticed a group of five middle-age black women walking with one cart together. They seemed jovial and I was thinking that I’d bet my life that they were shopping for a graduation party of some sort. I watched as all five of them noticed Owen and then stopped their chatter to stare at him. I then watched as one of the women — a very dark skinned black woman in a beautiful dress — moved into Owen’s path and put her hands out to physically stop him in his tracks. Stunned, Owen stopped and looked up at the woman. I was standing right behind him now. The woman looked all around (including right at me — we even made eye contact), and then said to Owen, “Little boy, where is your mommy?” He was stunned and confused, just looking blank-faced up at her. Louder she said, “Little boy, where is your MOMMY???” The other four women stood staring down at Owen. Several people all around heard it, stopped their shopping and their conversations, and started watching. The moment seemed to be in slow motion for me. I vividly remember my boy turning his head around and looking up at me with a confused and stunned look in his eyes. I vividly remember the five black women all scanning the store in every direction. I vividly remember other shoppers silently staring. “Right here,” I said as confidently and self-assuredly as I could muster. “I am his mother and I am right here.” The woman took her hands off of Owen and I gently touched his head. All five of the women just stood there staring at me with blank looks. For Owen’s sake I repeated it again, as calmly as possible, and with a smile on my face I looked the women in the eye, and as everyone — including my son — stared at me: “I am his mother and I am right here.”
Owen’s Painting (on left): “A panda bear with bamboo” ~~ Kyle’s Painting (on right): “The villa, and vacation trees, and the ferry, and the captain”O & K, yesterday morning snack
K & O, today lunch
Many times on this blog I’ve mentioned Kyle and Owen’s eating habits. These boys can eat. Pediatricians and children’s health books and articles on child nutrition all go on and on about it — GROWTH SPURTS. I know I’ve said something similar before, but I’ve got to say it again: My boys started what I guess you could call a crazy “growth spurt” the day we met them and they have never exited that “spurt.” They have been growing non-stop and eating what I (and others who witness it) consider excessive amounts of food in a constant state since they were eight months old. Since their last day of daycare (May 22) they’ve been eating even crazier-than-usual amounts of food. I am not sure what is going on here. It may be because they are more physically active now than they were while in daycare (not that they ever weren’t active — God knows, they’re always active — but since ending daycare they’ve been even more SUPER physically active because they have more time/space/ability to do what they love: play outside doing what could best be described as a 3-year-old version of EXTREME SPORTS). So, maybe their latest over-the-top eating binge is related to the fact that while we were on vacation and since being home the boys have been so “active.” Or perhaps it has something to do with the actual ending of daycare. Were they more deeply unhappy there than we knew? Are they now feeling so good that it is manifesting itself in their appetites/eating/physical selves? (not that they ever didn’t eat a lot — they’ve always eaten a TON, but right now they’re just eating soooo much)… Or maybe it is just simply a coincidence… maybe they’re just eating more right now because like all of us they go through phases of eating more or less, and maybe it has nothing to do with the end of daycare?? I know one thing: it has nothing to do with a “growth spurt” — their doctor’s visits chart it quite clearly: they’ve been growing consistently with no breaks ever. Regardless of the reason, let me just say this: THEY ARE EATING A TON. Just to give you an idea… Here is what they have eaten just in the past 24 hours:
Really I’m not sure if this is normal or not, but I thought I should document it for history’s sake. If they are ever winning food-eating-contests I can at least have recorded proof that it all started right at the very beginning. And I’ve got to believe that this will help when someday in the future I make a claim to some of their winnings in exchange for the fact that I had to constantly provide the steady stream of food that set them up for their Winning Life.
The pool cover was taken off on Tuesday, but it takes a couple days to clean up the pool and for the chemicals to all settle, etc. Yesterday, after work, the pool was looking perfectly clean, and I checked the chemical levels and sure enough it was ready to go. I shouted to Kyle and Owen, “Let’s go in the swimming pool guys!” Quick as a whip they were in the house to get their bathing suits on. Before getting back outside I warned them, “Our swimming pool is much, much colder right now than the swimming pools in Virgin Gorda! It is going to be very, very cold!” Kyle just nodded disinterested. Owen had a snappy response: “I will jump in it.” “O.k.,” I said, “let’s go!” And out we went. [Note: as always, you can click on any of these photos to see them larger.]
Once we got out there Kyle was a bit hesitant.He just looked at the water for a bit, contemplating it all…
Then Owen stuck his hands in to see how cold it actually was(it was very, very cold)…
Of course, (of course of course of course), Kyle — Fearless Kyle — was the first to go in. He proudly walked right in. Then jumped in from the side a few times…
…freezing his little tush off, but loving every second of it nevertheless…
Finally, Owen took the plunge.Rather than walk down the steps, he just dove right off the side…
And quickly realized how very, very cold it really, really was!…
Yay Owen! (I don’t know who was more excited at Owen having jumped in– Owen, or Kyle)…
“Mommy, it’s cold but good!”…
Soon they gave up on actual swimming and both sat on the edge playing with the water. It continues to be so remarkable to me that in any space (no matter how open or vast), the two of them stick right together… always right next to each other, often with their bodies touching in some way, and usually playing the same exact thing…
The pool is open and the summer has officially begun!
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