Up and down

(I’m still procrastinating on this thing for work. I hate hate hate asking for things. I think it’s a hugely important skill (handling the rejection, too). But I hate it. Okay enough about that.)

Yesterday up until bedtime I had about the best at-home day ever. Noah and I were in sync, dancing and laughing and playing, and he was relaxed so I could also get a few chores done in between, and we found a new path leading away from the park to a cool hidden park (more on this later).  And then in the afternoon we had swimming and I found I still have my special ed skills, ’cause there’s a kid there who is dangerous every. class. He’s around 4 and his mum brings him to his preschool class and her tot to the mum & tot, and every day he spends the time between family swim and the class doing things like… climbing the lifeguard stations, or hitting people like me (he did this precisely once, the first day).  Yesterday he was climbing up on the table in the snack area – my table, in fact – and his mum, who’s always worn out by then was weakly protesting from the deck.  And I just reacted – I looked him right in the eyes, leaning forward, and I said in my teacher voice: you. heard. what. your. mother. said.  And he went and sat down.

And we had a fabulous class and although bedtime was a bit rough in that Noah didn’t go down ’til 9, it was a calm not-going-down and alas, pride goes before a fall.

Because today has been just the opposite. I’m working on being able to leave Noah with like, a babysitter, and today it seems like it might be all too easy, if you know what I mean.  He shrieks if he gets near a playpen or an exersaucer or anything that resembles at all closely somewhere you know, safe and confining that might mean I could go to the bathroom or hang laundry outside.  And he doesn’t want to dance or sing or play or nurse or read books, much.  He wants some nebulous thing, probably to be bigger or walk or compose operas or something.  And he didn’t want to go for a walk and how DARE the yappy little dog yap!

And then the kicker was he found he did want to play with the door stopper, which is currently perfectly safe, so I let him and I was a whole 3 feet away. But then he tried to turn around too fast and toppled onto his side, against the door so it closed with him on one side and me on the other. But he had toppled! So he cried! And I had to open the door a little veerrrrry slowly and carefully and then push him back to open the door. And OH MY GOD he could not believe there is a universe where you could be crying with a (very very minor) owie and your mother would push you back!

So he screamed in anger and attached himself to me angrily and wouldn’t let go for about 10 minutes. And then he nursed like there was no tomorrow and then we had a little walk and he fell sound asleep.  And now I could do laundry but I feel burnt out – and it’s only 1:45! We have hours to go!

So I choose to vent instead.

It is quite amazing how quickly he’s moving towards toddlerhood these days.  I can see the frustration welling up in him – he wants more information and control.  He wants to feed himself. He wants to pull his diaper off. He wants to be included in conversations (whatever that means to him).  And then all of a sudden, the skies will clear and he’ll be more like a baby – smiling and wow!ed at every little thing.

It’s trippy.

~~

About the new path – so our nice open park by the lake ends at one end with some overgrown wilder bits at the edge of a ravine – lots of wildflowers and sumach-type bushes and weeds and vines and trees.  I had followed a path a few times right at the edge of the ravine but I hadn’t noticed that if you go up alongside the backyards there’s a second path into the wilder bits that, as it turns out, goes way way up the ravine (let’s say the equivalent of 5 or 6 blocks up, although it twists), past the train tracks (although I have not yet ventured beyond).  It’s shady and cool back there, and with backyards on one side and ravine on the other it’s also very quiet.  At some points there’s only about 3 feet of ground before it dips pretty seriously down to the creek/runoff and at other points there’s quite a bit of land – even one spot where it opens up into a whole field with a baseball diamond at one end, despite there being no access to the road there (I haven’t figured out how the city mows it, but it’s clear they do, unless it’s the homeowners there doing it). 

I really like going up along there. It seems pretty clear of anything truly noxious, like poison ivy, and although it’s a little buggy in the morning, during midday it’s really not too bad.  Yesterday we went twice, and the second time Noah watched a huge Monarch butterfly for about 5 minutes.

And that’s so important to me, that he get a chance to connect with nature even if it’s just a city ravine.

And yet… see, this path is relatively secluded and quiet and as I said there are bits where you need to be a little cautious about the ravine.  And I look at these things with new eyes because eventually Noah will venture out alone from home and these will be his stomping grounds, and – eek! Ravine!  The bluffs along the lake were bad enough, but I figured it was reasonably straightforward to teach him not to go too close to the edge (I mean obviously supervise him for years, but eventually).  But a ravine and a hidden park are worse – not just the climbing/break your ankle/neck hazards, but the pervert-in-the-bushes hazards.

It will be an interesting balance to find, room to explore and grow and just go and -be- and examine fungi and stuff, vs. protection.  So many parents I know have chosen to keep their kids in the house and I find that makes me feel very sad, because that exploring time was so important and healthy for us.  And yet do I want to be an exception and have my kid back at the ravine alone at the age of 10? I don’t know. I really don’t. Luckily there is lots of time to think about it.

But when I take him out as a matter of habit I wonder if I haven’t already made my choice, a little.