Valentine's Day Fun

Jenny organized the second annual (third?) co-op valentines party at our house. Clearly the kids had fun with costumes, tattoos and making a big racket on the piano.

Art With Liv

We took Liv to the Berkeley Art Museum to see a show by one of my favorite artists -- Bruce Nauman. I knew it would be fun for her because he makes a varied art work that covers photography, neon, video, installations and all sorts of other media.
One of the first things we encountered was a film called "how to catch Asian Carp." She watched this several times, enjoying the hysterical laughter of teh film maker that opunctuated the catch and release of the fish.
We then went into another room where her eye grew wide at the name "Bruce" spelled out in neon cursive. It stretched across the long wall of a room with at least 10:1 ratio f letters in his name to the number of times they were represented in neon. Think "bbbrrruuuccceee," but about 4 times longer, and glowing white. Another video installation had Bruce Nauman moving along a square painted on the floor by shuffling his feet. At some points he moved from the frame. Liv asked why he was sneaking around. I told her he was making art. The visit ended with us getting a hot chocolate at a nearby campus coffee house.
The art made a big impression, though. A few days later we got some boxes that had been shipped by my cousin Bruce. Liv asked where the boxes came from, and I said "my cousin Bruce." Without skipping a beat she said, "Bruce has a long name." I had no idea what she was talking about until Jenny pointed out that she was referencing the above neon representation of the name "Bruce." A few days later, as we were getting in the car she said, "You know what Bruce was doing? He was sneaking on the square!"

Chilly Afternoon Walk to the Park

The Things They Dream About

Tonight, I went in to check on Liv in bed to make sure she was covered up. As I walked in the room she sat up. She looked confused -- her eyes were wide open -- and started struggling to get her hands out from under the blankets. She struggled for a little while until I helped her and she took one hand and wiggled it in front of herself while making a squeaking sound. I asked her if her hand was asleep, thinking she was trying to shake the tingly feeling that comes from constrained circulation.. She struggled with words for about 15 seconds and finally said: "No, it's (her hand) talking and only a hand would understand what it's saying." Pause. Wiggling her hand again she continued, "squeak, squeak." And then I slowly pushed her back onto her pillow and she was out again immediately.

Big Sister

I don't think we've officially noted it here on the blog yet, but Olivia will become a big sister sometime in April. We've been pretty laid back about "sibling prep" and such for Olivia so far... we talk about it but for the most part let her bring up the topic. Lately she's been volunteering her interesting and cute thoughts. "When the baby comes out, I'll give it a big hug and kiss." "When the baby wants to watch TV, I'll line her up so she can see." "We don't know what kind of baby we'll get. Maybe a boy, maybe a girl. We don't know what color eyes she'll have. Maybe blue like mine and Dad's, or brown like yours and Pilot's." Last night T. Jay was reading on the subject of sibling preparation, and one parent advised that you make sure your older kid knows that their Mom and Dad will also be Mommy and Daddy to the new child. I thought that would be superfluous information at this point, but since we haven't explicitly said it, I figured it couldn't do any harm. So this morning I asked Liv, "When this baby comes, who will its mommy be?" She looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Very slowly, she poked me twice in the chest with her finger all the while staring at me through narrowed eyes like, "Lady, if you haven't figured this out yet you're in deep weeds." Then, just to make sure I understood everything, she explained, "And T. Jay will be its Dad." I suppose she's seen enough new kids and older siblings now to figure out that the new ones are stuck with the same parents as the old ones.

"When beans come out of your mouth..."

Liv woke up this morning and said she needed some water. I brought her a glass, and she took a sip and curled up on the couch and went back to sleep. I tucked her in with a blanket and continued working. A few minutes later she sat up and began puking -- and she really puked up quite a bit. Out came a substance that looked almost exactly like refried beans. I picked up the blanket and caught her vomit in the soft folds of the fleece. The look of surprise on her face -- it wasn't fear or discomfort -- was amazing, with big open eyes full of confusion. Jenny came out and helped clean up (I have a terrible gag reflex -- I'm a sympathy puker). She asked a lot of questions: What happened? Why? Will it happen again? I answered as clearly as I could, and I let fly the comment about "refried beans" (more about this later. We secured a "puke bowl" and instructed Liv about it's proper use. The day went on and she threw up a number of times, often using her bucket! She was never more than a few feet from her bowl, and when she would follow us in to the kitchen or the bathroom, she'd say "Hey, wait! I need to get my bucket."
Aside from seeing her not feeling well, the worse thing about it was watching her body contort when she had dry heaves was just awful. She'd throw herself backwards, and Jenny would brace her (while I left the room, of course, trying to keep myself from puking). My favorite moment? One of Liv's Rules came out. "When beans come out of you mouth you can't go to school or play with your friends."

More on Dying

Olivia overheard Jenny talking to a neighbor about my mom passing away. I knew nothing about this. I got home and LIv said, "Did your mom die?" I looked at her and answered her affirmatively. She asked if she was coming back. I said no. She asked, "Where did she go?" I described as best I could that Grandma Connie had died, and she went nowhere, but that she would always be with us in our memories and our heart. She looked away for a few seconds and then asked, "Is the house going to die?" I said no. Then she asked if Grandma Carol had died. I said no. Then she looked away again. And then she asked if I was sad, and I said yes. She then went back to playing. She's processing this well, she's encountered two deaths in the last several months, and she seems to understand as well as we could expect a three-year-old to. For me, it's almost more difficult to view this loss through he eyes.

Got Balls?

Olivia was in fine fettle tonight at the grocery store; helping me pick out yogurt, vegetables & fruit, etc. As we strolled past the bulk foods aisle, she said "Mom! Stop, I want to show you something!" Sure enough, she wanted me to look at these little mint/chocolate balls. She often gets to pick out small treats at the store if she's behaving well, and one malted milk ball serves to make her *very* happy. So I picked out three of the little mint balls, and put them into a bag for her to hold. She proceeded to sing a song about how excited she was to have those little mint balls in a bag. Within a couple of aisles, her song had evolved into something along the lines of: "Yay, yay, yay! Momma's got balls! Heigh ho the dairy-o, Momma's got balls! Momma's got balls!" If you know Liv, you know she's not quiet. I think it's safe to assume that the entire grocery store was wondering whether I was a pregnant transvestite.