I wish my day had been filled with this lovely Beatles song instead of the following meltdowns. When I say meltdowns, I mean the serious kind, that last much longer than you expect--so long the kids usually don't remember what they're crying about anymore, and produce huge tears, and lots of snot.
This morning, C and I were going to go to the library. He seemed perfectly excited about it, and we have gone many times together. His mom walked out the door with us because she was going to the grocery store, and a few steps after she parted ways with us, C started screaming and crying that he wanted to hold his mom's hand. I told him we just had to walk two blocks to the library and drop off some books, and get new ones, and then we could go back to the house and hold mommy's hand. He continued to scream all the way to the library, two city blocks, and then for about 10 minutes outside of the library because I told him we couldn't go in until he could stop crying. The interesting part was, the whole time we were walking, he was keeping up with me, which is usually not the case. I guess because he was so upset he didn't have time to be distracted by other things on our walk, and it was actually pretty nice for me (despite the screaming I had to listen to).
This afternoon I was watching L and A, and L wanted to go outside. It's been kind of rainy and cold all day, so I didn't really want to stand outside while they played, but I told him we could go out for a little bit with the hopes it would tire him out and he'd take a long nap. L wanted to get in his little plastic car, and wanted his brother to as well, but A wasn't interested. This is when the meltdown began. Then, finally, A got in his little car (maybe he's conditioned to do what L wants so that he doesn't have to listen to screaming) and then L continued to scream, saying he wanted to hold A's hand. I told L he could ride his car over to A and hold his hand, but he just started screaming louder and crying. I asked him what was wrong, and to use his words, and he just kept saying he wanted to hold A's hand and reaching his hand out of the car, but not moving the car with his feet. Finally, I told L we had to go inside if he couldn't use his words and be nice, to which he of course screamed at me more and refused to go in. I took A inside and watched L from the window, sitting in the driveway screaming and crying. Every time I opened the door to ask if he wanted to come in with us, he just screamed at me at the top of his lungs. Finally I brought him inside where he cried on the floor until I brought him to his room for a (much needed) nap.
In sum, I hope everyone is able to hold the hand of the person they'd like to today, and if not, then I wish them the strength to endure the time they are unable to.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Crust
In my days with six kids ages 3 and under, I come across a lot of crust--in many forms. What I am referring to in this post though, is the crust on bread. Some kids don't like to eat it, which I have never understood. Is it because it is a different color? A different texture? On most of the white bread or soft wheat bread I've seen kids eat, the crust really doesn't feel much different than the rest of the bread. Anyway, some kids won't go near it, like L for example, who leaves about an inch of bread before he gets to the crust, which means he really doesn't get much of the sandwich, and is consequently always still hungry. I usually give L's crust (and inch of sandwich attached) to his little brother, who happily eats the whole thing.
C, on the other hand, eats his crust first. It's his favorite part. I've never seen a kid love the crust of bread so much, but for all his strange qualities, this is one I love about him.
I have found a solution to the avoidance of ultimate crust piece of bread, the heel, which even many adults I know refuse to eat. When I make the kids sandwiches, I turn the heel piece upside down, so that the white side is up. That way they don't know it's the heel, and there is the added bonus of being no crust on the other side, so they can eat the whole thing! Sarah 1, Crust 0.
C, on the other hand, eats his crust first. It's his favorite part. I've never seen a kid love the crust of bread so much, but for all his strange qualities, this is one I love about him.
I have found a solution to the avoidance of ultimate crust piece of bread, the heel, which even many adults I know refuse to eat. When I make the kids sandwiches, I turn the heel piece upside down, so that the white side is up. That way they don't know it's the heel, and there is the added bonus of being no crust on the other side, so they can eat the whole thing! Sarah 1, Crust 0.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Vomit Aversion
Yesterday I was babysitting L&A, and their mom had informed me that L had a fever all day, but seemed fine and didn't have any other symptoms. I got to their house and he seemed happy and talkative. After their mom left, he dressed himself in his boots, hat, winter jacket, and mittens and told me he wanted to go outside. I bundled up A, and took them out. A is just starting to walk consistently and was not a fan of the snow. When I put him in it, he stood in one place and just said "help" over and over again until I took him out. L, on the other hand, loved it. He rode his tricycle through it, played on his little playground, and when I told him it was time to go inside, he protested.
After snow-time, the kids both slept for about 2 hours. When they woke up and I went upstairs to get them, I got the baby first, and went into L's room. He still looked extremely tired, and his cheeks were very flushed, but I asked him if he wanted to go get a snack downstairs and he said yes. When he walked into the hallway, he started holding his throat and whimpering. Then he started gagging and making those gross croaky, gurgly noises you make when you're about to throw up. So I picked him up and ran into the bathroom and held him over the bathtub. I commended myself on being so brave, because I really truly hate vomit. I don't like the noises, I don't like the feeling, and I definitely don't like the smell. My aversion to vomit is so bad that if someone tells me they've been sick and they're on the phone with me in a completely different part of the country, I start to feel nauseous. It might be considered a disorder.
So, L continued to make the gross noises and was crying, so I was pretty positive he was going to throw up, but he never did. I set him down on the floor, with the upper half of his body still crouched over the bathtub. Only when I put him down did I realize that I was shaking, and that my body temperature had risen considerably. I was having an actual bodily reaction to the POSSIBILITY of this three year old throwing up. So, I may have commended myself a little too early--I truly am a wimp when it comes to vomit. How will I ever have children?
After snow-time, the kids both slept for about 2 hours. When they woke up and I went upstairs to get them, I got the baby first, and went into L's room. He still looked extremely tired, and his cheeks were very flushed, but I asked him if he wanted to go get a snack downstairs and he said yes. When he walked into the hallway, he started holding his throat and whimpering. Then he started gagging and making those gross croaky, gurgly noises you make when you're about to throw up. So I picked him up and ran into the bathroom and held him over the bathtub. I commended myself on being so brave, because I really truly hate vomit. I don't like the noises, I don't like the feeling, and I definitely don't like the smell. My aversion to vomit is so bad that if someone tells me they've been sick and they're on the phone with me in a completely different part of the country, I start to feel nauseous. It might be considered a disorder.
So, L continued to make the gross noises and was crying, so I was pretty positive he was going to throw up, but he never did. I set him down on the floor, with the upper half of his body still crouched over the bathtub. Only when I put him down did I realize that I was shaking, and that my body temperature had risen considerably. I was having an actual bodily reaction to the POSSIBILITY of this three year old throwing up. So, I may have commended myself a little too early--I truly am a wimp when it comes to vomit. How will I ever have children?
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Life With Six Kids Ages Three and Under
Now that I've introduced the kids I spend 40-50 hours a week with, I think I will start writing about what it's like to hang out with them all day. I'm going to refer to them by the initial of their first name, so that their names aren't repeated over and over on the internet, in association with my name. For privacy's sake--as much as you can have when posting publicly on the internet.
I've decided that three year olds, or maybe three year old boys specifically, are just weird. Weird doesn't necessarily have to mean bad, but they are strange little beings. They are entering a stage in their life when they are no longer babies, especially if they have younger siblings. They are encouraged to do things for themselves more, much to their dismay. They are taught and encouraged to use the toilet instead of the more convenient (and much preferred, in my experience) method of just going in their pants. They are told that crying and screaming doesn't get them what they want, although only a year or so back, it did. In sum, being three (or 2 and a half) is not as easy as you might think.
Three year olds are also trying to communicate more and are always learning new words and phrases that they attempt to incorporate into daily conversation. This can be pretty funny at times. I was in K's room with him the other day and there was a photo on his bookshelf of a man who looked like his uncle. I asked him if that was his uncle in the picture and confirmed that it was. I said, "What is your uncle's name?" to which he replied, "I don't rightly know!" His response cracked me up, and made me wonder where he had picked up the speech of a middle aged British man.
I've decided that three year olds, or maybe three year old boys specifically, are just weird. Weird doesn't necessarily have to mean bad, but they are strange little beings. They are entering a stage in their life when they are no longer babies, especially if they have younger siblings. They are encouraged to do things for themselves more, much to their dismay. They are taught and encouraged to use the toilet instead of the more convenient (and much preferred, in my experience) method of just going in their pants. They are told that crying and screaming doesn't get them what they want, although only a year or so back, it did. In sum, being three (or 2 and a half) is not as easy as you might think.
Three year olds are also trying to communicate more and are always learning new words and phrases that they attempt to incorporate into daily conversation. This can be pretty funny at times. I was in K's room with him the other day and there was a photo on his bookshelf of a man who looked like his uncle. I asked him if that was his uncle in the picture and confirmed that it was. I said, "What is your uncle's name?" to which he replied, "I don't rightly know!" His response cracked me up, and made me wonder where he had picked up the speech of a middle aged British man.
Monday, January 18, 2010
My Boys
After much job searching, trying to find a "real job", I settled for the next best thing, which is really THE best thing in my mind--nannying. I spend my week, Monday through Friday (and occasional weekends) with kids from three different families. I want to introduce them.
Kailas. Named after the tallest mountain in the Himalayas "Kailash", commonly known as K2. Kailas will be 3 in March and is one of the most interesting kids I have ever come to know--in a good way. He's extremely smart and well spoken for his age. He's 99% fully potty trained, which I have also come to realize is rare. He loves learning words in other languages and has an incredible memory for words and people and events. When I read books, Kailas likes to point at the faces of characters and ask me what the face means-whether it's happy or sad or angry, etc. His favorite foods are cereal bars and hummus (not together). He's a sweet, generally well-behaved boy who is constantly searching for new things to learn.
Talin. I can't remember the origin of his name, but it has something to do with India or Hinduism. Talin is Kailas' little brother and the second son of a woman who is of Indian decent and wants to preserve that culture in her boys. Talin will be a year old in May, which makes him about 8 months old right now. In the time that I have been watching him, he has learned to sit up and to crawl. He is a very mellow baby, and rarely cries. Things that make him smile are hearing his name, seeing himself in the mirror, being tickled, and watching his older brother do just about anything. His favorite foods are (pureed) tomatoes and carrots and apples--together or seperate.
Luca. Luca is three years old and is someone I did not instantly click with. He's fairly hard to understand when he talks, and often answers questions the opposite way of what he actually wants. Example: "Luca, do you want cereal?" "No." Then he cries because he doesn't have cereal. He's always very excited when I walk in the door and often cheers "Sawah!" as I enter. He loves his firetruck puzzle and he loves to sing and "play" guitar. His favorite foods are peanut butter and jelly and honeycomb cereal. He also loves chocolate milk. He's being potty trained, and in the past week or so has really come a long way. He needs a very long time to adjust after he's woken up from his afternoon nap, but is generally happy after he's had a snack. I think we're starting to understand each other more as time goes on.
Auden. Luca's little brother who is 16 months old. Auden is the fastest crawler I have ever seen. He's taken his first steps while I've been babysitting him, and will walk for you if you make it a game, but otherwise sees no need for walking. He is the sweetest one year old I have ever met. The only time I have ever heard him cry is when I put him in his crib if I run to the bathroom, and he stops after about 10 seconds and plays happily until I come get him. He smiles when he goes down for a nap, he smiles when he wakes up. He gets a confused look on his face when his brother hits him, but then smiles again pretty quickly after that. He loves to cuddle, especially after his naps. He says "yuh" a lot, especially in response to the question "do you want some honeycomb?", which is definitely his favorite food. He does what I call "the honeycomb dance" whenever there is the actual cereal or just the box, in his sight.
Clyde. Clyde will be three in February and LOVES trucks. He can name more trucks than I have ever heard of. He talks really fast and repeats things over and over until you acknowledge what he has sad. He loves Richard Scary books. He can walk for literally miles and never rides in a stroller. Clyde can focus on one task for very long periods of time. I've seen him play in a miniature sand box, or with his trucks in his room for hours at a time. He has a very advances palette for a 3 year old--I've seen him eat things like pesto and goat cheese and arugula. He's an interesting kid and is about to have his entire life changed by....
Ada! The one girl that I am now a babysitter for. She was born on Saturday, and is Clyde's little SISTER! I know nothing about her and will meet her later this week. I can't wait.
Kailas. Named after the tallest mountain in the Himalayas "Kailash", commonly known as K2. Kailas will be 3 in March and is one of the most interesting kids I have ever come to know--in a good way. He's extremely smart and well spoken for his age. He's 99% fully potty trained, which I have also come to realize is rare. He loves learning words in other languages and has an incredible memory for words and people and events. When I read books, Kailas likes to point at the faces of characters and ask me what the face means-whether it's happy or sad or angry, etc. His favorite foods are cereal bars and hummus (not together). He's a sweet, generally well-behaved boy who is constantly searching for new things to learn.
Talin. I can't remember the origin of his name, but it has something to do with India or Hinduism. Talin is Kailas' little brother and the second son of a woman who is of Indian decent and wants to preserve that culture in her boys. Talin will be a year old in May, which makes him about 8 months old right now. In the time that I have been watching him, he has learned to sit up and to crawl. He is a very mellow baby, and rarely cries. Things that make him smile are hearing his name, seeing himself in the mirror, being tickled, and watching his older brother do just about anything. His favorite foods are (pureed) tomatoes and carrots and apples--together or seperate.
Luca. Luca is three years old and is someone I did not instantly click with. He's fairly hard to understand when he talks, and often answers questions the opposite way of what he actually wants. Example: "Luca, do you want cereal?" "No." Then he cries because he doesn't have cereal. He's always very excited when I walk in the door and often cheers "Sawah!" as I enter. He loves his firetruck puzzle and he loves to sing and "play" guitar. His favorite foods are peanut butter and jelly and honeycomb cereal. He also loves chocolate milk. He's being potty trained, and in the past week or so has really come a long way. He needs a very long time to adjust after he's woken up from his afternoon nap, but is generally happy after he's had a snack. I think we're starting to understand each other more as time goes on.
Auden. Luca's little brother who is 16 months old. Auden is the fastest crawler I have ever seen. He's taken his first steps while I've been babysitting him, and will walk for you if you make it a game, but otherwise sees no need for walking. He is the sweetest one year old I have ever met. The only time I have ever heard him cry is when I put him in his crib if I run to the bathroom, and he stops after about 10 seconds and plays happily until I come get him. He smiles when he goes down for a nap, he smiles when he wakes up. He gets a confused look on his face when his brother hits him, but then smiles again pretty quickly after that. He loves to cuddle, especially after his naps. He says "yuh" a lot, especially in response to the question "do you want some honeycomb?", which is definitely his favorite food. He does what I call "the honeycomb dance" whenever there is the actual cereal or just the box, in his sight.
Clyde. Clyde will be three in February and LOVES trucks. He can name more trucks than I have ever heard of. He talks really fast and repeats things over and over until you acknowledge what he has sad. He loves Richard Scary books. He can walk for literally miles and never rides in a stroller. Clyde can focus on one task for very long periods of time. I've seen him play in a miniature sand box, or with his trucks in his room for hours at a time. He has a very advances palette for a 3 year old--I've seen him eat things like pesto and goat cheese and arugula. He's an interesting kid and is about to have his entire life changed by....
Ada! The one girl that I am now a babysitter for. She was born on Saturday, and is Clyde's little SISTER! I know nothing about her and will meet her later this week. I can't wait.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Ray
Ray, a great guy and amazing asset to the Bryn Mawr Athletics Program, passed away last Friday. I went to two memorial services today for Ray, and learned a lot about him that I didn't know. From his physical appearance, I assumed he was an athlete at some point in his life. He was extremely tall and muscular, at least 6'3 and 250 pounds. During high school he was the star of both the baseball and basketball teams, and was offered a contract with the Chicago Cubs as well as a full scholarship to Temple University for basketball. He ultimately chose basketball at Temple, which is lucky for Bryn Mawr, because he probably wouldn't have ended up there had he gone to Chicago. Ray was a giant compared to most people on Bryn Mawr's campus, but he was a gentle giant. He was soft-spoken and always had something encouraging to say. He never missed a home event at Bryn Mawr. He was always there, standing stoically on the sidelines of every soccer game I played. I always saw him on the field, checking things out as I walked to the gym an hour and a half before games started. His greeting to every person he saw was "Hey, Bud."
One of the two services today was a Quaker Meeting style memorial service, where people stood up and told their stories of Ray. One girl talked about how much she didn't like being at Bryn Mawr because she was homesick all the time. She talked about how eventually, through playing field hockey, and lifting weights under the guidance of Ray in the off season, the gym became the place where she felt most at home on the Bryn Mawr campus. It wasn't the dorms or her major department. It was the gym, with Ray and all the coaches. I never thought about it before, but that is exactly how I felt at Bryn Mawr, and how I still feel. I've walked into the gym a handful of times since graduating, and I always feel at ease there. I know I'll see familiar friendly faces, and I know I will really miss Ray's being one of them.
Ray dedicated the later part of his life to making people, especially women at Bryn Mawr, physically stronger. He pushed our bodies to the limits, but not beyond what he knew we could do. He cared so immensely about each person in that gym or on those fields, that it's almost hard to believe. He had to undergo a double knee replacement a couple of months ago, and complications from that kept him without the use of his legs for longer than he or anyone else expected. The complications meant was no longer able to do the one thing he seemingly loved most in life, which was being a part of Bryn Mawr Athletics. Unfortunately, this frustration turned into depression, which ultimately led Ray to decide life wasn't worth living anymore.
I wish Ray could have known how much he meant to all of us. I wish there was something we could have done, an extra step we could have taken. I will always remember him as that big friendly giant in the gym and on the soccer field, with a huge smile and a "Hey Bud!". He will hold a place in all hearts who had the honor of knowing him.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Strange Happenings
So the other day I was walking down the street to a beer store (yes, in Pennsylvania you can only buy beer at designated stores). This store is only two blocks from my apartment, but I saw two significantly strange things on my walk.
The first was a tiny little snake wriggling down the sidewalk. It couldn't have been more than a couple inches long, and at first I thought it was a garter snake, but I am pretty sure those are black. I might be wrong. This snake was tan or light yellow (it was pretty dark outside). I tried to guide it to the side of the sidewalk where there was grass in hopes that it wouldn't get stepped on, but I don't know if it made it. Hopefully he/she is out there somewhere, and doesn't grow much bigger.
The second thing I saw was a trolley hit a car. I was standing on the corner, waiting for Jess to pick me up on her way back from work so we could go to a friend's house, when I heard a loud bang/crunch. I looked over and the trolley was stopped, and as I crossed the street to the other side, I realized there was a car smashed up against the trolley. I guess the car was pulling out of a spot on the side of the street and the trolley crashed into it. I am not sure whose fault it was, but neither vehicle could have been going more than 10 miles per hour. The driver's door though, was completely stuck closed though, because it was up against the side of the trolley. No one was seriously injured. I felt bad for everyone riding on the trolley though because they all had to get off, and no other trolley was going to be coming anytime soon because the tracks were now blocked off with this accident. Bummer.
That is all I have to report from the block at 48th and Chester. More to come.
The first was a tiny little snake wriggling down the sidewalk. It couldn't have been more than a couple inches long, and at first I thought it was a garter snake, but I am pretty sure those are black. I might be wrong. This snake was tan or light yellow (it was pretty dark outside). I tried to guide it to the side of the sidewalk where there was grass in hopes that it wouldn't get stepped on, but I don't know if it made it. Hopefully he/she is out there somewhere, and doesn't grow much bigger.
The second thing I saw was a trolley hit a car. I was standing on the corner, waiting for Jess to pick me up on her way back from work so we could go to a friend's house, when I heard a loud bang/crunch. I looked over and the trolley was stopped, and as I crossed the street to the other side, I realized there was a car smashed up against the trolley. I guess the car was pulling out of a spot on the side of the street and the trolley crashed into it. I am not sure whose fault it was, but neither vehicle could have been going more than 10 miles per hour. The driver's door though, was completely stuck closed though, because it was up against the side of the trolley. No one was seriously injured. I felt bad for everyone riding on the trolley though because they all had to get off, and no other trolley was going to be coming anytime soon because the tracks were now blocked off with this accident. Bummer.
That is all I have to report from the block at 48th and Chester. More to come.
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