Up

Writing about firsts, I need to document the first movie Jackson saw at the movie theatre. Bolt was our first attempt in Brisbane, but Jackson opted not to actually enter the theatre, maybe he really only wanted to popcorn and blue Gatorade after all. (Because he readily excepted the DVD copy of Bolt he received while visiting his Great Aunt and Uncle and watched it continuously that weekend, which they will attest to. 

So on a sunny April afternoon, Jackson, Grandma and Grandpa P., and I saw the Pixar film Up at the Pekin cinema. Although Jackson requested I go too, he was ready this time, walking right in to the theatre. The screen held his attention for (most of) the entire movie. He couldn't even be pulled away to the potty (very typical three-year old boy). 

This was, in my opinion, the best of the Pixar films, although be warned it really is pure chick flick. Smart on their part as I am sure mom' make up the majority of these audiences. Grandma P. and I were bawling through our 3-D glasses, and even Jackson was silent during these heart wrenching parts of the movie, as if he understood the messages. When asked, Jackson said his favorite parts of the movie were "the dog and the bird." So see, there is something for everyone. 

The only real downfall was that we chose to go to a 3-D showing, and Jackson found wearing the glasses a real annoyance (as did I) and left them off. When we left the theatre, Grandma wondered if that made him dizzy. When Jackson threw up later that afternoon, I think that was confirmed. From now on, we will keep those glasses on.

Ready

"Mama, what am I going to learn tomorrow?"

"Yes. It is fun, Papa." 

"Where am I going today?" 

"It not a long time, Mama."

We have a new man is the house. One who loves preschool!  Our previous experience with "school" in Brisbane makes it almost unbelieveable the above comments were made by Jackson in regards to school. We are so happy for him that he had such a great time attending a summer camp at the preschool he will begin attending this fall the past two weeks. (Especially his "nerdy" mom -- referred to by Drew -- who still wishes she could be in school.) We knew this day would come, and are so glad he now says goodbye with smiles and kisses instead of tears. (Although how I may have a different issue -- on the last day of camp it was Maeve who started crying when Jackson left us. She -- always believing she is older than she really is -- seems to think she is ready for school at 15 months.) 

Jackson may just be turning a corner as he also the past week to go to swimming lessons, ran at full speed over to a neighbor's for a play date on his own, and jumped onstage at a kids' concert without any encouragement. All this just confirms that with Jackson, he is ready when he is ready. So we remind ourselves to wait, be patient and let him enjoy life at his pace. In the meantime, we are just loving the new art by Jackson school is delivering! 

Some like it hot

"Jackson, it only took us 20 minutes to drive to the Children's Museum. This is going to be great. In the winter, when it is cold outside we can come here all the time!" This I say to Jackson as we enter the parking deck, not really knowing if he is paying attention or if I am just talking for my own benefit, which happens often. 

"I not like it cold out," Jackson said. "Not want to go to the wintertime again."

Amen, brother. 

This week we were actually in Zionsville the entire week, and we at least are loving the heat. But like Jackson, I am dreading cold weather. I am so happy we moved in the Spring/Summer. It has been so easy to meet our neighbors because everyone is outside and happy! (And exponentially happier than people who live in warm weather year-round.) If we would have moved to the Midwest in the winter, it may have been months before we even saw a neighbor. However, moving in the summer has also meant that as summers go, we are never home to finish (start) our home projects. We'll have all winter for that, right?! 

So we did lots of water parks and swimming pools this week. (All without one forgotten swimsuit. Well, Jackson may have flashed our neighbors tonight on the way inside. Must run in the family. Our neighbor actually shouted over, "What are you running, a nudist colony!" This really sounds bad on paper!)  We also took advantage of establishments that blast their AC, like the local library and Indianapolis Children's Museum (so, so cool please come visit so we can take you!).

And we finished the week with the perfect (in my opinion) night. First the community pool, drove home in our suits and towels (me and Drew), diaper (Maeve), and undies (Jackson). Monical's Pizza delivery man on our driveway when we pull up. (Nice.) High chair comes to the back patio for Maeve, and we all eat the pizza from the box. Hose off the high chair, throw the kids in the bath, one book each, and lights out literally. 

So, isn't there any way we can avoid winter? J, I know you're with me. Seriously, for now I am going to soak in every second of this summer as my favorite people in the world are taking my heart back to my own childhood, stirring up sweet memories and widening my smile all the time. Makes it really easy to not feel guilty about having the perfect fill-in-the-blank finished at the house. 

I just can't end this post the way it is titled without mentioning that if you are addicted to the hot tamale train that is 'So You Think You Can Dance,' please let my sister (and her husband) and I know so we can all have a completely shallow conversation that goes on and on about the three hours of the show we are required to watch each and every week. 

A laugh

Tonight I offer you a laugh fully at my expense. Today was "swimming day" as Jackson reluctantly calls it. Right off the bat this morning he told me "no swimming day, school day," which once you have the full history on school (I will fill you in sometime), explains just how much he has dreaded this session of swimming lessons. 

So I am debating what will be the best approach to persuade my very, very strong willed son to actually get in the pool this week -- week three. "Just don't wear your swimmers," one mom suggested last week. "OK, I can see her point," I think and start to get dressed. "No, wait. Maybe if I wear my suit and get in he will take his turns with me. Yep, that's it. I'll wear my swimsuit and get in." 

And off we go, beginning the breakfast/dishes/diaper changes/jammies to swimsuits/carseats dash to the Clem Jones Swim Center for one half hour of swimming fun (sarcastic). We park, greet Jackson's buddy Owen with hugs and giggles, and drop Maeve off at the child minding. Then it is off to the "big, deep" pool for our lesson. The other little kids in the class are already at the pool's edge, and our teacher, Craig, is waiting in the water. 

So we hurry, and with an eye on Jackson, I begin taking off my cover up clothes, mentally preparing for the intense effort required to get Jackson in the water. As I throw my shorts in the bag, that's when I notice . . . I am standing there in my swimsuit top and my -- get ready for this -- underwear. Seriously. And it is on that note, that I begin the day. I think the rest goes without saying. 

Disclaimer:  OK, now that I have made a fool of myself, I am going to pass on some of the blame (I am pretty good at this). I blame Maeve. We call her "mommy's shadow" because she is always hanging onto my calves since she can now stand, but not yet walk. So this morning, she was right there, hanging on as I rushed to get dressed. 

But really, who I am I kidding. Only I can take responsibility for doing something that completely stupid. 

Waiting

Monday was Jackson's very first "full" day of "school." Full because in October and November when he went to ABC daycare he only ever stayed for three hours max. School because although his new place, Puss in Boots, is also a daycare like ABC was, it really feels more like a preschool. I love everything about it -- the teacher, Patricia, who reminds me of the Julia Child of children, the philosophies, the workshops for parents (which I would have loved if we were staying here since I have unofficially taken on childhood psych as my field of study). It just feels homey. 

The separation is always the hardest part for us. Jackson really puts on a dramatic, heartfelt show for me. Cementing that Catholic guilt I have, making me feel like I am leaving him in the worst place ever. Of course, the logical me knows I am not, which is the only reason I can save my tears for the car, and just say to him matter-of-factly "Jackson I love you, and I'll pick you up in the afternoon." I know if I prolong the goodbye, I just prolong his distress, giving him false hope that maybe, just maybe I'll cave and take him home with me. Really, he gets going on these dramatics even before we leave our house, and the only way I get him into the car is to tell him that we will just go check it out. "Yep, sign says no Jackson come to school. Jackson go home with mommy in mommy's car," he predicts the entire 10-minute drive there. Astutely observing how hard these goodbyes can be, the teachers at Puss in Boots tell me to go get a coffee, call a friend and then call back in half an hour. Thank God they have walked this road before and give us parents empathy. 

Once Maeve and I get settled back home, the house feels so empty and quiet as she takes a very long morning nap (which she can only do since there is no one to wake her). I miss Jackson and have to keep busy talking to my parents on the phone and folding laundry. When I call back, Patricia tells me to pick Jackson up at 3 p.m., so he has more time to settle in. 3 p.m. feels so far away. 

But before I know it, it is time to go pick Jackson up. Drew calls and wants to meet us there -- he hasn't seen the school yet and is anxious to see Jackson too. We walk into the Jr. Kindy room and there he is, looking half little boy/half little man, happily playing along side another little boy/man. When he turns around and sees us, his face lights up with a smile, and our hearts burst a little. 

"Look," he holds out a peg board with nails pounded in neat rows. "He nailed all those in," Patricia tells us. "For mommy. For mommy and papa's party," he tells us. It is clear he has had a great day at school. 

He is chatter, chatter in the car on the way home; so excited about the growing he has done. But he isn't going to let me forget how hard it is for us to be apart. "Jackson cries lots," he recounts. "Mommy does lots of shopping for Jackson. Jackson waits and waits and waits." 

Yep, buddy, I was waiting too. 

The Ringbearer

The other night as we were cleaning out a closet, we came across an album of snapshots from our wedding. 

"Look, Jackson," I said. "Mommy and Papa had a wedding just like Aunt Kristen." 

Jackson looked at the picture for a moment. "Jackson not walk down that aisle," he said. (Almost questioning our judgement. Hadn't we seen his performances at Brian and Rachel's wedding, Meg and Greg's, Kristen and Kirk's? See above pictures.) 

"No, Jackson," Drew said. "That would have been bad." 

I'm listening

"Papa, finished?" Jackson shouted. He desperately wanted to build a "big, big" Thomas Train track with Drew. 

"Yep, I'm all finished," Drew finally said. 

And there was little Maeve over in her high chair doing sign language for "finished" or "all done." All by herself, with no one speaking to her or asking her if she was finished eating, she was doing the sign we had taught her. 

"She heard you say finished," I said, surprised. "See I think little kids hear way more than we think -- why is that?" I rhetorically asked.

"Because they never listen," Drew said. Meaning, they never do what we ask, when we ask it. 

How true.