Art appreciation, sort of

I used to have such ambitious plans for The Boy - French classes starting at 6 months, music lessons at 3, weekly trips to a museum/gallery/concerto or whatever. 2 years in and I've (sensibly) scaled back my plans. Instead of French classes at Alliance Francaise I practice French flashcards with him in the style of Pepe le Pew. The music lessons are still a possibility - though I have really fallen behind in exposing him to classical music. And the museums etc.? We give it a good go, but have really slacked off.

We took him to the Tate Modern and the Science Museum in London. He's been to The Museum of Contemporary Art here in LA once, the Getty twice and the Page Museum(La Brea Tar Pits) once. That's it! It's something, but still.

Anyway, we did manage to get out 2 weekends ago and took a trip to the LA County Museum of Art. I don't think I'd been there since high school, Hubs and The Boy had never been there and we were accompanied by an art historian friend of mine who actually used to work there. It was awesome!

The Boy's favorite part was the bit that we saw first

Our art historian friend told us about some crazy Spanish cats and explained the room with all the Baby Jesus's, but the best part - in my opinion, anyway - was the French Impressionists - at least I think they're Impressionists. Monet, Cezanne... those guys. Anyway, a trip to The Getty a year ago led us to find Make Van Gogh's Bed, a book much loved by The Boy that narrates famous works of art in childhood verse and makes something tactile within the paintings - fabric on Van Gogh's unmade bed, Degas' ballerinas tutus, Monet's lilies and, as observed by The Boy, Cezanne's fuzzy peaches.

And then, as has become our tradition on our rare cultural excursions, we hit up the gift shop. This time we bought a block puzzle with 6 different self portraits painted by Van Gogh and another book by the creators of Make Van Gogh's Bed; Catch Picasso's Rooster. The Boy insisted on carrying the bag himself.

So The Boy isn't super keen on the puzzle, we've had to put it away since he mostly likes peeling the picutures off the cubes, but he LOVES the book. Yay!

Nap Time

Seriously? Why does my kid think this is acceptable? Or even comfortable? First I thought sleeping with his butt in the air was weird, then it was the sleeping on the floor. But the sleeping standing up seems to defy several natural laws, gravity being the least of them.

I posted a pic of him sleeping whilst standing in this post, but I thought that was a blip. At least in that one he was leaning on Hubs.

Anyway, strange. Very, very strange.

"Kisses for Mama"

The Boy says that to me, "kisses for Mama," and my heart melts into a puddle of goo. I've been teaching him Eskimo kisses and butterfly kisses, so now on top of the slobbery regular kisses I get there are "butafy" kisses, with a chubby cheek turned towards me, as well as Eskimo kisses, a word we still don't know but indicate we want by shoving a wrinkled up little nose in my face.

So yeah, "kisses for Mama" now shares the top spot for favorite things anyone says to me with "huggle Mama."

Happy weekend!

Furry Friday - Or a Boy and his Cat

I actually started writing this post earlier in the week, but the loss of some online friends furbabies reminded me of just how important it is to properly introduce Cat to my little blog.

Here is a picture of my cat

We got her at an adoption fair a few months before The Boy was born. Not long before that my very much worshipped and adored calico cat died suddenly of kidney failure. As heartbroken as I was, I wanted my son to grow up with a cat, to never know what it was like to NOT have a cat. So we went to the adoption fair and found the awesomeness that is our cat. She was 2 at the time, had been in a foster home for 6 months and considered un-adoptable because "people want kittens." WTF? Whatever, we thought. It's everyone else's loss.

Fast forward 2.5 years. Cat and The Boy are buddies. He follows her around meowing and she tolerates his "love" in head-butting the tummy form. They jostled for lap space on Hubs when The Boy was wee, still do actually. He's a pro at petting other cats and dogs because of being told from the time he could wave a little arm and clench a little fist to "be gentle with Cat."

::There were a couple of pics of Cat from The Boy's infancy and early infancy that I planned put here, but Hubs asked that I not. Grrrr::

And cat is equally gentle with The Boy. Even now, when he's old enough to know better and big enough to really hurt her, she refuses to swat at him, enduring whatever kind of attention he's showing her until she turns on her delicate paws and moves out of his reach. But never for very long. She's always the first on the scene when he's sad, circling his crib(sorry, bed) if he's crying letting off a cheerful meow when he climbs into bed to let him know she's there.

That's not an exaggeration, they're really that cute with each other.

She really his The Boy's cat, and I love the fact that he's growing up with her. It makes me incredibly proud to see how well The Boy treats her and, because of learning to treat her well, how well he treats all animals. The sight of the 2 of them together makes me go all "aw shuksy." Even as I write this they're both napping on either side of me, making me thank my lucky stars for my little family.

Some thoughts on discipline...

Or rather, my deficiencies in discipline.

I am loud. I am opinionated, intense and often pushy. I'm also particular about how I want things done. Hubs is low key, mild mannered and exceedingly quiet. He's not only a man of few words, he's a man that is often difficult to hear because he speaks so softly.

Before parenthood, or even after parenthood but before toddlerhood, I never in a million years would have that that I would be the soft touch when it came to dealing with tantrums and other 2 year old nastiness, but I am. While Hubs excels at giving "the look" and calming The Boy down with a stern talking to, I flail about uselessly - issuing time outs, warnings of time outs and rhetorical questions like, "are you trying to drive me crazy/give me a heart attack/make me cry???"

I find myself spending what seems like half of every day negotiating - "you have to wear shoes to play outside," "if I spend 20 minutes reading to you can I have 10 to clean," "you can't have a bite of ice cream unless you have 2 more bites of broccoli," and this weeks new favorite, "I'll only read your bedtime stories if you stay in your bed."

It's slowly dawning on me that I am weak. I try to explain the importance of patience when he wants something done NOW, but I usually end up giving in - especially if what he wants is a book read to him. I do my best to explain consequences, patience, rules what-have-you, but I so often feel like a failure. The only thing I seem to be able to get him to do is to pick up his toys if he wants something in return, but with so much of the rest of it I feel like I'm turning my happy little guy into a spoiled little brat. He's totally not a spoiled little brat, but it often feels that way.

Part of my feeling like I've slacked off is that I have finally learned to pick my battles - or been forced to choose my battles, whatever - as opposed to micro-managing every. little. thing like I did when The Boy was younger. It's easier now to let him take his shoes off if he's in his stroller or to wear his shirt backwards if he really wants to. He wants to do things his way, and I'd rather put my foot down when he's throwing his toys around or demanding more ice cream than with dictating his sartorial choices. He really is well behaved for a 2 year old, but I still can't help but feel like I'm doing a bad job at disciplining him when he IS bad. I feel guilty thinking I'm letting him get away with stuff.

So yeah, I'd heard about the self-doubt that afflicts parents but always thought it was hooey or that it wasn't something that deserved any amount of sympathy. Now I know how wrong I was.

This shit is hard!

I haven't done this in a while...

Wordless Wednesday

Our Big Weekend

Saturday, September 17, 2011 - I got carded whilst trying to order a glass of wine with dinner. I wrote the whole date because I wanted to remember it lest it's the last time it happens.

My best friend/brother was visiting from India so we Hubs, Boy and I joined Bro, my dad and step-mom at Buca di Beppo. The company was awesome, the food was okay, The Boy was in fine form and I was asked to show that I was born in at least 1990, when I was born in 1973!!!

The funny thing was that before I was asked for my license my dad said I looked radiant and asked, "are you pregnant."

But I digress. Here is some Boy cuteness at dinner

And then, we came home to put The Boy to bed in his newly converted toddler bed

It went pretty well on Saturday. Last night, after a super active day and a very short nap, didn't go too well. Overly tired baby was waddling around in his sleep sack asking for hugs and talking to the cat before the threat of a time out(at bed time???) by Hubs made him come to his senses and climb into bed. So the jury's still out on our move away from the crib, but it had to happen sometime.

What a big week - forward facing car seat, big boy beds visits from our favorite uncle. Awesome!