Guest writer

Little Dog seems to have been bitten by the literary bug.  Long a fan of reading, or at least being read to, he has recently branched out into writing.  Or at least dictating.  At school, one of his teachers has taken to writing down his stories as he tells them.  Most recently he came home with one of his stories printed out complete with the completely unrelated, yet highly decorative pictures he used to gussy it up.

I've decided to share his latest fine story with you because I enjoyed it so thoroughly.

A Pig Jumped on the Princess's Head

by Little Dog

Once upon a time, there was a princess and she knew how to do a flip and she could hop on one foot.  She just standed on her hands then she jumped over a very, very, very high wall and she landed on her feet.  Then she crossed a bridge and a pig just jumped on her head!

See!  Amazing.  If you don't see the pure creative spirit flowing from my child, you clearly didn't read what is written above.  Go ahead, read it again.  This time with feeling.

Bookended

Today I took the day off and spent some dedicated mommy/Little Dog time since Little Dog's school was closed to prepare for summer vacation. After a pancake breakfast, lots of book reading and a brief rest, we picked Big Dog up from his last day of Kindergarten.
They had a little ceremony in front of the school in which the principal led a "Friendship Circle." It's an annual tradition for this school and as much as I didn't want to tear up, I couldn't help it.
After honoring the year's work, talking about the teachers and staff who were moving on, either because they chose to or because budget conditions and enrollment had changed the needs of our specific school, she asked the Kindergarten class to stand up.
They did, this group of little kids who looked so big compared to their first day at school just 9 1/2 months ago. Better at following rules than before, the four kindergarten classes rose to their feet. She asked them to turn and face the rest of the school, their parents, family and friends who had come to participate in the circle. After the not quite as little kids, still slightly out of scale to the sheer size of their school bags on their backs, turned to face the audience, she announced that they were now officially first graders. And although I already knew this in my logical mind, emotionally it was stunning to hear it said. A first grader. And the smile that spread across his face was radiant.
Just months ago, in September, I stood on the playground with an excited and frightened child waiting for this phase of his life to begin. My first baby, my little boy. Neither of us knew quite what to expect. And naturally he thrived. He loved his school, his only complaint was that things moved too slowly and sometimes he gets bored when the other students can't keep up. Oh boy. Naturally there were bumps along the way, figuring out the rules, making his good friends and learning that even when you like school it isn't all fun. But today he sat there so confident and proud my mommy chest swelled with my own mommy pride.
While I watched this transformation, Little Dog clung to me, his arms around my neck, my arms around his little body. He was tired from our morning, ready to leave and get the celebratory ice cream I'd promised.
He's getting ready to move into a new class at preschool too. The oldest in his current group, they're promoting him to a class with older kids where he'll be better matched in age and play style. He's grown too. Drop offs are no longer a scene with waterworks and gnashing of teeth. Not always easy, but not the same caliber of struggle we had for months. He meets me with a smile at the end of every day. And though he'd rather spend a day at home, he tells me plenty of stories about his adventures when he away from me.
Tomorrow we start another phase. The summer at a shared school in different classes. Then one more year until Little Dog begins his own Kindergarten career. It seems parenting is always presented within little bracketed phases. Beginnings and endings. Starts and finishes. The familiar leap into the unknown as I learn that no matter how prepared I may think I am, these boys will never have the same encounter, the same reaction or the same lessons. That little skip in my heart, like the beginning of a roller coaster free fall at the beginning then again at the end. Always followed immediately by yet another stage.

The Notebook (but this one doesn't suck)

Big Dog came across an old notepad the other day. It's a small tablet of paper bound with a spiral at the top. We got this back in the days when Blue's Clues was all the rage in our house. That phase has long past but since we are essentially pack rats, and the notebook was more or less unused, it has stayed in the art table, tucked away and waiting to be rediscovered.
So today Big Dog decided he needed this small notebook, and when we were preparing to leave our house for a playdate, he rounded up a pencil to take with it. The boys had to wait a minute in the yard as I resettled the booster seats in the car, then put the chickens back into their coop. As I did this, Big Dog started sketching.

His first sketch was of the chickens in the garden behind the wire mesh that keeps them from roaming the whole yard while they are out for their recess from their coop.













After the playdate, we all went out for dinner in Ballard. On the way there, Big Dog made several more sketches. As we sat in the waiting are of the Hi Life waiting for our table he made a few more. After a bit, he showed me a few more. He drew them quickly, getting only an impression of the scenes he passed on the way, but I thought they were pretty cool, and even cooler that he had decided to take an artistic approach to documenting his day.

The "EAT" sign on the Uma restaurant near the Hi Life in Ballard.













A wine glass hanging in the bar.













A waiter.













A fire extinguisher.














And a store we passed on the drive over.













Yes, the Love Zone. If it sounds a little bit like a sex shop, that's because it is. Albeit a sex shop that advertises with old looking pulp magazine kind of art. Pretty eye catching. Even for a 6 year old. Can't say he isn't observant.

Still dreaming

"It's sad that someone got Martin Luther King dead," says Big Dog in the backseat as we drive to pick up my newly repaired vacuum.
"It is," I answer. "Did you talk about this in school?"
"A little."
"Do you know why someone killed him?" I asked, wondering how much they covered in kindergarten.
"No," he said. "Why?"
"Well, there was a time in this country where people were given different rights based on the color of their skin. It was ok to tell some people they didn't count as much and didn't get to be treated fairly because they happened to have dark skin. Isn't that stupid?"
"Yeah! That's dumb," he agreed.
"Martin Luther King Jr was working to change that. He was helping people organize and fight the laws that kept some people less equal that others."
"Like they had the separate drinking fountains?" offers Big Dog. "Why would they do that?"
"I don't know. I think there is a lot of fear and ignorance in the world. Fear and ignorance breed hatred."
"But why did they kill him?" he asks.
"Ignorance and fear are powerful things. Sometimes when people are facing big changes, changes to the way they are used to things being they get scared. And sometimes when people get scared they do horrible things to prevent those changes. So in this case, this man thought that by killing Martin Luther King Jr he could keep things from changing. But he was wrong."
"I'm glad," says Big Dog thoughtfully. "Why do some people not want to be fair?"
"I don't know. That I don't really understand at all," I answered. "Maybe they're afraid that if everyone was equal, if everything was fair, they'd lose something. Maybe they think they don't have enough and if they had to share what they had, they would suffer. But that doesn't make it right."
"No. That's kind of stupid," he agreed. "Are things all fair now?"
"No sweetie, things are never going to be completely fair. Some people will always have more and some will have less. The best we can hope is that we make sure that those who have the least have enough to survive," I say in my left-leaning way.
"But we don't have different water fountains anymore, right?" he asked. Obviously the water fountain thing made a big impression on him.
"No, but some people still aren't given the same rights as others just because of who they are. People like uncle Stan and uncle Michael don't have all the same rights as I do. They can't get married just because of who they love."
"Well that's just stupid. I hope someone changes that," says my boy.
"Me too, honey. Me too."
Out of the mouths of babes oft times come gems.

Because I can't help myself.

Big Five, Big Dog! (Alternate title: Holy Shit, Already?)

Dear Big Dog,
Wow, you’re five. You’ve been on the plant for half a decade. I can’t believe how quickly how time has passed. Yes, it is a cliché, but it so completely applies. Hell, I swear I can still feel the back labor! At the same time I can’t believe you’ve only been in my life for the past 5 years, since your presence so fully integrated in my life, I don’t know how I’d see the world without you.

You’ve grown from a squirming newborn to a charming little boy, and I am constantly surprised by just how much you’ve changed. You’ve been more boy than baby for a while, but this past year has been a year of more subtle changes. Your vocabulary has continued to blossom, or should I say explode? You’ve acquired so many new words, phrases and are even able to apply the subtleties of intonation. It is as though you are a language sponge, (even for many of my most inappropriate expletives) and you seem to truly enjoy playing with words and meaning. I love watching this side of you develop.

At this tender age, you've already written your first book, (Toot the Train) complete with illustrations. Even more, you tell stories and sing great songs, all original, all slightly odd, all 100% Big Dog. I never know if the story is going to involve ghosts or raining pizzas, snakes or talking dogs, all I know is that I'll never hear anything like it anywhere else.

This year also marks your exploration into traditional comedy. Sure, some of your jokes don’t really make sense, but true comedy takes time, right? I love watching you play with paring incongruous concepts, finding the humor in a specific word, or probe the potential for laughs in an absurd situation. I can’t wait to see where this takes you, little man.

When we lost Mao, that was your real first hand experience with death. I’m not sure we did the right thing as parents by shielding you to an extent, but even as an adult I have such limited experience in this realm and I’m not really sure what I believe about what happens next. I think you got it, you knew he was gone, and that he had been very sick, but I wonder if you needed more from me. Maybe I was too cloaked in my own grief to really support you. I’m sorry for that. Even then, your efforts to comfort me when I was sad were truly moving.

You had other big transitions this year too, from your daycare/preschool to your new school. You shocked me with your readiness to embrace the new environment. I’d been protecting you from this transition, and it turns out you really thrived on the new challenges. Way to go!

Some things have not changed, you still love animals. I don’t think a day goes by that Nikita is not showered with kisses. Dashiell may be bigger than you know how to manage, but he gets his fair share of sweet words and probably more than his fair share of treats. More recently, you show such an adorable connection to Goldie, it is hard to believe she is just a fish in a tank. You talk to her and share with us her observations on the world. I love the way it shows your desire to connect with others, even those who don’t breathe air.

I’m sure you know it, because I say it often, but Big Dog, I am so proud of you. Not only are you handsome, smart and funny, you are a nice person. You are sympathetic to others and full of love. How could I ask for anything else?

Happy Birthday my big guy! I love you more than words could ever convey.

Linguisitcs and the 4-year-old

"Big Dog, when are you going to start going potty by yourself," I asked, slightly amused that though he is long potty trained, I still am asked to accompany him to the bathroom on a regular basis.
"When I'm a parent," he says.

A parent. Hmmm. That word means a lot to Big Dog. And while he uses it a lot, he also uses it interchangeably with grown up. When little girls and boys are not longer little, they are parents. Sharp knives, wine and the stove are all "for parents." Driving a car, for parents. Poppa's drill, for parents (no matter how much he may really want to disagree with that one). Parents get to decide what's for dinner and eat as much chocolate as they like, whenever they like. And he's right about a few of those things. And wrong about all of them too. He just doesn't realize the difference.

In his world being a parent means that you are in charge. You get to make the decisions that make the kids laugh or cry. You get to have the Tivo remote and you get to decide when it is time for bed (well, kind of decide). You get to have the fun, dangerous stuff and do things unsupervised and without asking permission. Being a parent is power. And that's kind of cool. In his world, being a grown up is the same as being a parent, and since most of the grown ups he knows are also parents, he blurs the line between the two.

When I explained the difference to him at one point, he got it, but it didn't stick. He understands that some people are parents and grown ups and other are grown ups but not parents. He just calls them all parents unless corrected. And since he loves the idea of having babies of his own, being a poppa to his own little boys and girls, I can understand how that distinction remains blurred through everyday use. It's actually kind of cute.

What I haven't explained is that while I get to set the rules, I am not really in charge. My own self-determination has been severely tempered by the wants and needs of my two little boys. They have the power to make me laugh and equal power to make me weep. Watching them develop new skills makes me swell with pride and watching them stumble or struggle breaks my heart. Does he get that difference? No, in this relationship I have to play sheriff to keep them in line, but they are the driving force behind my rule of law. I make rules to keep them safe, to keep them happy and to help them grow into successful people. (Ok, I make a few rules to help keep my sanity, but that's part of keeping them happy right? A crazy mom is not a good mom.)

To be fair, I get his perspective on parenthood. It looks pretty awesome from where he is sitting. Honestly, it is downright amazing from where I am sitting too. Still, I hope he starts going to the bathroom on his own long before he becomes a parent. That could be a sticking point for finding a future co-parent.

Special thanks to Gregg @onedadslife for suggesting the topic that sparked this post. If you're on twitter you should follow him. He's cool like that.

While one boy is a punk in training...

Big Dog has fully embraced his inner punk. With the mohawk, the Docs and his love of rockin' out, he's well on the road to becoming a punk rocker in his own right.
So while one child is a punk in training, it seems the other is gearing up to be the next Mary Kate Olsen. Not the billionaire child-star aspect of her life, that I could totally get behind, well, at least the billionaire part. He seems to be taking on her bag lady/hobo/fashionista fashion sense. Who knows, maybe he'll stumble onto the next big fashion trend. And if he does, there is a good chance he'll do that stumbling in a pair of his mama's shoes, wearing a soap dish "hat".


Special thanks to NE for these outstanding photos! We adore you.

How to make an old punk cry. Part 2

Ask for, no, demand a mohawk. My little boy certainly is growing up !

That much?

"Big Dog, I love you something special!"
"Thanks mama. Mama, I love you like the dogs!"
"uh, thanks Big Dog."

Look at Him Grow!

Happy birthday Little Dog. Today you turn two. Amazing.
You are such a ray of sunshine in my life, occasionally grouchy opinionated sunshine, but sunshine none the less. Your exuberance and outlaw spirit make your smile and lust for adventure completely contagious. Your morning hugs with the sweet back patting, and your kisses and snuggles are addictive.

In the past two years you have developed your own personality, your own style and even your own little fan club. I know your "girlfriends" at Red Mill and NE would agree. Your fearlessness shakes me at times, but I try not to stand in your way too often. I love the way you try to emulate Big Dog, and although he acts annoyed by your presence at times, I know he loves it too. It is especially apparent when he calls to you to play and asks for you first thing in the morning. I see the pride in his face when he takes time to introduce you to EVERYONE as his "baby brother". Watching you run away from Papa's kitchen tongs this morning with your partner in crime reassures me that sibling issues you may have are easily offset by the companionship you share.

Your verbal skills astound me. You routinely string seven words into sentences that make your wants, needs and flat out demands clear to anyone willing to listen. "I want it, some kisses" or "I don't want it, diaper" even "Go away" or "Pick you up" are hard to misunderstand.
At such a young age, you have already managed to develop a fantastic sense of humor. You excel at funny voices, goofy facial expressions and just hamming it up when you know we are looking.

I'm also amazed by how physical you are. For a toddler, you are coordinated and have such a strong sense of balance. Your dad told me you were standing on a wheeley bug the other day, just to jump off. I couldn't manage that as an adult, and here you are as a toddler balancing with no effort. In addition to the crazy boy stuff, you also are a natural dancer. Any song can get you moving. I love the way you imitate the Backyardigans and dance along with anyone willing to cut the rug with you.

Baby, I love you. Every inch of you. Every marker obsessed and covered inch of you. And today as you gain another year, I am only a little sad to know you aren't really a baby anymore. You are quickly becoming a little boy. I look forward to standing back and watching my little whirlwind grow.

Creating the Next Generation

Wednesday nights at the Dog house are ruled by food, drink and bitches.
Our long time friend Auntie S comes over to watch our programs (Project Runway and when it is on, America's Next Top Model- I like to call this one "the bitches" but honestly you can pretty much apply that to Project Runway as well. And if you want to stretch it a bit farther, Auntie S and I could be included for the sheer quantity of jeers and put downs we toss as the program contestants and judges).

The tradition has roots in our SF home on Walter Street. (once compared to Melrose Place by an annoyed neighbor for all of our late night chatting, drinking and carousing) Back in the day, we would routinely hang out at one of the flats and watch our shows of choice while eating and drinking tons of Trader Joe's finest vintages. Fast forward 10 years and a few of us have settled in Seattle and revived the tradition at our place. The routine is pretty relaxed but involves a cocktail before dinner, dinner and wine (considerably less wine than the Walter Street era, but we still hold our own.)

The addition of the cocktail before dinner is pretty recent. B gave me a great cocktail book for Christmas and I have revived my interest in mixed drinks at home. As you may expect, adults with fancy, pretty drinks inspires a certain level of jealousy in the under 4 foot set. To counteract this, I have been providing them with their own "kiddie cocktails". So far these mostly involve a highly garnished glass of apple juice with a touch of berry puree for color. They love them. And they call them cocktails, just like the grown ups.

As cute as it is, on Thursday morning, when Little Dog was shouting "I wan some gok-tal!" I realized that this might reflect badly on me as a mother if taken out of context. Since he really doesn't understand that the contents of his glass are SIGNIFICANTLY different than the contents of my glass, I see this whole exercise might have been a bad idea. But if you don't get them properly trained to manage a cocktail glass at an early age, they may spend their adult life sloshing their martinis into their laps like, well, like Mr. Dog. I refuse to let that preventable handicap be passed on to my children.

Green things better watch out!

I'm feeling a little smug. I'm feeling a bit like a superior parent. Not only do my kids eat their veggies, they like them, and sometimes, they LOVE them.

In our house there are few battles over eating the green stuff. For example, tonight, when I put dinner on the table, I said "Salmon and broccoli" and Little Dog enthusiastically agreed "bwo-cree!" And if you like that reaction, show the boy a brussel sprout. The very veggie that is used to illustrate the parental struggle for dietary control of their children brings unmitigated joy to this child. If he spies a net bag of sprouts in the veggie drawer he pulls them out and tries to pry them free. It isn't until his first raw bite when he realizes they aren't yet cooked that I can pry them out of his hands, and then only to hear him scream "Sprow, sprow!"

And it isn't just Little Dog. Big Dog eats his veggies too. When he was younger, while other kids were begging for chocolate bars, he would gnaw on the bags of frozen broccoli in the cart at Trader Joe's. Even now, when we go grocery shopping he excitedly explores the produce department with an enthusiasm that causes other shoppers to stop and do a double take.
On one recent trip, while he was demanding that I buy "more cauliflower and wait, more broccoli. Ooh apples, and mushrooms!" a fellow shopper commented "I wish my son would even consider eating any of that. Lucky you!"

Another time, while we were eating "gourmet" pizza with his best friend and his mother, Big Dog opted for slices of the Greek pizza, covered in red onions and spinach. "Big Dog, you're not going to like that" warned his friend.
"Sure I will," replied Big Dog, innocent to the fact that he is a culinary oddity for his age group. He then proceeded to eat two large slices, loving every bite of it.

I don't know what I did to deserve such good eaters, but I secretly chalk it up to "excellent parenting." But don't quote me on that. I'll never admit to making such conceited claims.

Oh man, 4 years? So soon?

Hey Big Dog, so you've gone and turned 4, have ya? Congratulations. This has been a big year for you. In so many ways, you've shrugged off the last vestiges of toddlerhood and sprung forward into boydom. Your run has changed from a toddler waddle in fast-forward to a sleeker faster gait. Your confidence and vocabulary have blossomed, and your lust for knowledge has made it a real challenge for me to keep up with just what you know! Your relationship with your "baby brother" has changed from the tolerant (or not so tolerant) observation from afar to a fully involved older brother role, that swings from a buddy-buddy friendship, sweet hugs, and thoughtful gestures, to out and out annoyance that I imagine will go on for, well, the rest of your life.

I always want to say, "I can't believe it has already been 4 years," but that isn't quite true. I can't believe it has only been 4 years since you were a helpless little newborn being placed on my belly, fresh from my womb. How far you have come, and how different our lives are our now. In so many ways you have taught me what is really important to me, what my real priorities are, and how much joy there is in my life. As much as you study me for guidance, you are one of the most compelling teachers I have ever encountered.

It is amazing to me that my DNA is mingled with your poppa's DNA to create every aspect of your wonderful little body. And it seems to go beyond that. Your smile, your expressions, your charming little mind, seem to have links to us both in ways that constantly surprise me. You are an extension of us in so many ways, but with all the similarities, there is a uniqueness that defines you. No one can say you are a copy of anyone else, you are your own boy.

In the next year, I look forward to seeing you gain new skills, discover new things and continue to grow and change. I love you more than I ever imagined I would. You have my heart, love and support forever. Happy Birthday, Big Dog, you are my special big boy..

How to make an old punk cry

I just ordered Big Dog his first pair of Docs. I can't wait to see my little guy in his brand new gibsons. I'm getting weepy just thinking about it.

Onward and Upward Little Dog!

I still can't believe a year has passed since you entered the world. This time last year, we were just getting acquainted face to face after sharing my body for what I thought was a bit too long. After my initial shock to discover that you were a boy, not the little girl that I had been expecting, I realized just how right it feels to be a mother to two boys.
In such a short time you have grown from being a tiny helpless little newborn, to the robust and feisty walking machine you are today. Your sweet nature melts my heart, as do your spontaneous hugs and wet kisses.
Any doubts I had about being able to love another child with the same ferocity that I feel for your brother have been completely wiped away. You are similar and at the same time so unique, I can't compare how I love you two. You are each such individuals and I love you both more than I can even express in words. Thinking back, I can't even imagine how our lives were without you. You are essential to our family, integrated in our very core.
As I watch you speed along from infancy to toddlerhood, I feel a little ache, knowing that you are my last baby. But that ache is tempered by the excitement I feel each time you make a new discovery, or develop a new skill. Your thrill in each accomplishment is contagious.
I love getting to know you, and I look forward to continuing to see your own personality emerge. Thank you little dog, for being my sweet baby. I love you more than you will ever know. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!