Happy first birthday, Liam!

Posted on September 26, 2011 by admin

My sweet baby Liam — here we are, at your first birthday. It’s a little unbelievable to me that we welcomed you to the world only a year ago . . . and at the same time, I can’t believe this day is here already.

You are a joy to have in my life. I love your spirit and your heart. You smile often and broadly — your smile lights up your entire face. You have spent much of your first year with a paci in your mouth, but your eyes smile, too, so there’s no mistaking it, even when we can’t see your darling mouth. You are a happy baby, except when you are not. When you are displeased, there is no mistaking how you feel — you scream, you cry, you arch your back, you bang your head on the floor (the latter mostly from frustration) — you already throw full tantrums when you’re unhappy. But most of the time, you are a smiling, joyful baby rushing headlong from one activity to the next. You are fast — just a few days ago, you took your first steps, and you are already amazingly steady on your feet. When you need to move quickly, though, you still crawl — at warp speed! You are a fast little fellow! I love watching you crawl at full speed around the house, after Benjamin, or toward the bathroom for your bath — it is just so much who you are. I love watching the enthusiasm with which you explore the world. You throw yourself into every new endeavor: rolling over, crawling, walking, riding your new bike — and you learn so quickly.

You are an enthusiastic eater, too! We often joke that poor Bailey is disappointed in you, after Benjamin. When Benjamin was learning to eat, there was a lot of food left — on his tray, on the floor, on the walls, on himself. Not so with you, my little friend! You have yet to meet something to eat that you don’t enjoy. Poor Bailey scouts for crumbs after every meal, usually to no avail. He forgives you, though, because you are a sweet and gentle, creature, too — you pet Bailey so kindly, already.

Through you, I have seen Benjamin become a big brother, and I am thrilled and overjoyed at the way you two love each other. He looks after you, you adore him. You are a happy, smiling baby . . . but never so much as when you’re with your brother. You love to be with him, whether you’re cuddling together, racing around together, or playing together. You both love to share hugs and snuggles. It is so wonderful for me to see the way you are together, and how happy and loving you are towards each other.

You love to dance. You love to snuggle. You love to explore and do new things. You love to try to keep up with Benjamin. You love to get into mischief — you have a wonderful, mischievious grin and giggle that you reserve for when you know you’re doing something you shouldn’t be. You are fast, and you are in to everything — you keep me on my toes! You’re starting to be fascinated by books (for a while you just wanted to eat them, but that’s changing). Months ago, you starting saying “Mama!” to me . . . more recently, that seems to have gone away, but it will be back, I know. You’ve learned little things that surprise me — you recognize star shapes and always point them out. Your capacity for understanding what we say to you is astonishing.

You have taken to our new location in the world very easily. I think part of it is your age, but I know that part of it is just you. You are happy when you are with us — you have your priorities in order, already, and you go with the flow. You are happy where you find yourself, as long as we are there. On the other hand, I am sad that we have taken you away from your extended family — they would be so delighted to know you better, and you would adore them, too. They love you, from afar, and you love them, too — I giggle when you greet your Grandma, when we talk, with your scream of “Da!” and lots of pounding on the table. You love to see her, and the rest of your family, too. Even though we’re far away, you are very, very loved by all of them.

When I think back to your entrance into the world, I can’t help but remember how scary your first few days were, as well. I am so grateful that your difficult beginning has left no mark upon you — if I hadn’t been there to see it myself, I don’t know that I could imagine you, with your overflowing vitality, struggling to be a healthy little baby. You’ve really never looked back. You are so strong, so healthy, so vibrant, so happy — it’s wonderful to see.

I love you, my little Liam. I love you forever and ever, exactly as you are and exactly who you are. You are my beautiful, sweet baby boy. You are a joyous creature and a gift in my life. I am so lucky to be your mommy, and I am so glad that you are here. You are happy, sweet, opinionated, easy going, enthusiastic, loving, vital, kind and quick. Our family, which was wonderful before you, has become richer — somehow better, in a way I couldn’t have imagined and can’t really explain. It is as though you were always meant to be here, and that we all knew it — we were just waiting for you to arrive.

Happy birthday, my sweet, darling love.

Big brother Benjamin

Posted on September 25, 2011 by admin

A year ago tomorrow, Liam joined our family. That was the day that Benjamin became a big brother. It is so much a part of who he is, I can’t believe he’s only been a brother for a year.

We celebrated Liam’s birthday today (well, part of the celebration — the rest comes on Friday) and Benjamin helped with nearly every part. He helped me choose the gifts that we ordered a week ago. He helped me choose the gifts we purchased yesterday — he even helped me carry those around the store, and then carry them home. This morning, he helped me bake and decorate Liam’s cake. (He also helped blow out the candles.) He helped me wrap the gifts, decorate the cards and set the gifts out for Liam to open. (Then, of course, he helped Liam to open and play with his toys.) For days, he’s been asking every few hours: “Is it Liam’s birthday yet? Is Liam 1 yet?” I thought he was focused on the cake and the presents — be he kept asking, even after the celebration was done.

This only describes a little of how wonderful Benjamin is to Liam. He loves him so much. He looks out for him — he retrieves pacifiers and toys for him, he worries when he’s upset, he consoles him when he cries. He wants to be around Liam — he wants to play with him, go out together, cuddle together. He kisses him, hugs him, helps him, looks for him, smiles at him. They are wonderfully sweet together.

There are, naturally, times where I think Benjamin would like it if we could put Liam away for a little while. Liam likes all the same things Benjamin does (of course) and often “messes up” whatever Benjamin is playing with or the way he is playing. Benjamin’s frustration doesn’t last for long though, and it doesn’t affect the way he really feels about his brother. They are best friends.

Benjamin, you amaze me. You are capable of many things not expected of someone your age. Before Liam arrived in our lives, I actually used to worry about whether you two would get along — whether you would be happy having a little brother. My worries were needless. Since the moment you met him, you have loved your brother. You are kind, loving, caring, generous, sweet — you are all of those things even more towards Liam. Being a big brother came as naturally to you as did everything else that makes you who you are: being thoughtful, learning quickly, being fast and strong and agile. He wants so much to be like you. Thank you, my sweet baby, for welcoming little Liam into our lives. Thank you for being your wonderful self.

Birthday shopping and a lost balloon

Posted on September 24, 2011 by admin

This morning, Benjamin and I set out to do some gift shoping for Liam’s birthday (which is Monday, but we’re celebrating tomorrow). We’ve already gotten him a book and a replacement for another toy that he has that’s worn out (which was a hand-me-down from Benjamin, who got it as a hand-me-down from his Aunt Margaret — so Liam’s simply getting a new incarnation of it). I wanted to get him a couple of fun, new things for his birthday, too.

We left the house intending to go to the big mall, which is towards the outer parts of Vienna. As we got to the courtyard of our building, we ran into one of our neighbors, and when we told her about our plans, she instead pointed us towards a big toy store which was much closer to our house. I had no idea it was there!

We found the toy store — it is FANTASTIC. I’m disappointed that we ever trekked out to the mall when this place is so close. Benjamin and I looked all through the store for toys for Liam’s birthday. Every 30 seconds or so, Benjamin would stop, point, and gasp, “Oh my gosh!” at some toy he had just seen. They had everything: books, blocks, dolls, trucks, cars, games, arts & crafts supplies, bikes, stuffed animals. The store was four floors of toy shopping fun.

Benjamin was such a great helper. He helped me pick out things for Liam (and suggested many things which, although not age appropriate for Liam, would have made lovely gifts for a 3 year old I know). He was so thoughtful and kind when he was choosing things — he really thought about what Liam would enjoy. I had an idea of one thing to get for Liam, but Benjamin was adamant about another toy — we went with his choice. He was so excited about the idea of Liam playing with his new toys and so excited that it’s going to be his birthday.

After we had chosen two gifts for Liam, we went downstairs to the balloon section. I was going to select a few “1st birthday” balloons, but Benjamin had his heart set on a frog and a pirate ship that he found — really cool ones. He really wanted them for Liam. So, we went with those. We purchased everything and opted to walk the 20 minutes home so we didn’t have to deal with the balloons on the train. (I was having visions of us getting on the train and the balloons getting stuck on the opposite side of the door — birthday balloon carnage!)

The weather for our walk home was perfect: sunny, cool and beautiful. Benjamin and I talked about the things we saw along the way, and he talked about how excited he was so give Liam his presents. I tried to impress upon him the idea that these things should be surprises (the thought is rather lost on him). It was a perfect morning. I was so impressed with how kind, well behaved and sweet Benjamin had been, and I, too, was looking forward to presenting Liam with his gifts and balloons.

And then, at the end of our block, Mommy blew it. I shifted my grip on the bag of toys and I must have let go of the balloons. I jumped in time to grab the frog, but I wasn’t able to catch the pirate ship. We stood on the sidewalk and watched, helplessly, as it drifted up and up, past the buildings and into the sky.

Benjamin was devastated. He sobbed, he screamed, he shook. I felt like doing the same thing, but all I could do was to hug him and tell him I was sorry. Mommy messed up. Mommy made a mistake. I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I feel terrible.

Instead of arriving triumphantly home with our packages, we were disappointed and sad. After getting home and calming Benjamin down, I left the boys with Dan and went back to the store to try to find another one — but of course, it had been the last one. I know Liam doesn’t care — he never knew there was a pirate ship balloon, and he’s thrilled with the frog. But Benjamin is so sad. He was so excited to give it to Liam, and he keeps telling me he’s worried about the balloon — he wants to know what will happen to it now. All through the day, he’s had bouts of crying about it.

My sweet boys. I love them so much. Benjamin’s sweet enthusiasm this morning was wonderful to experience. His sadness and disappointment are awful. Liam is so excited to have his frog balloon, and I know that he’ll love his presents — most of all the ones that Benjamin chose for him with so much love. Best of all for his birthday, though, Liam has a sweet and wonderful brother who loves him. We are all so lucky.

Loneliness and big hugs

Posted on September 23, 2011 by admin

Benjamin has had two relatively tear-free days at school. He seems to be adjusting to the concept, enjoying himself more and making friends. This morning, however, when I mentioned it was nearly time to get dressed for school, he got sad again. He started crying. (My poor guy.) I asked him how he was feeling, and he said, “I don’t want to go to school.” Upon further questioning, I got answers that progressed to, “I don’t like the kids”, “I don’t want to go”, “I don’t like it there” and finally, “I’m all alone there — I feel lonely.”

That’s the real issue, I think: I’m pretty sure he actually does like the kids, and he does like the school. He’d stay there all day if Dan, Liam & I were there with him. (Actually, I think he’d probably be pretty happy even just with me.) I am so proud of him for being able to voice how he feels. I am so impressed that he understands why he feels that way. I want to reassure him that his feelings are normal without feeding them. I want to validate the way he’s feeling, and I want to encourage him to continue to be honest about his feelings, but I’d rather not have it turn into tantrums about going to school. It’s hard. I tell him that it makes sense that he feels that way, that I understand, and that when I started school, I felt lonely, too. And then I tell him that some of my best friends, even now, are people I met at school. (That’s actually pretty cool — I have friends I’ve known since kindergarten, and he’s played with their kids, so he knows who they are.)

I think that helps him a little, but getting dressed for school, he was still a little sad (although no more crying). Just before it was time to go, Liam toddled over to Benjamin, fell against him, then took his arms and wrapped them around him, giving him a big hug. He let go, smiled up and Benjamin, and then tucked his head against him and hugged him again. And again. Benjamin smiled and hugged him back.

Then they lost their balance and fell in a heap on the floor, laughing. (No injuries.) I told Benjamin, that if he feels lonely today, he should remember Liam’s hug and remember that Liam and I will be there very soon to pick him up. As he was leaving, he said goodbye to all of us, and said, “Bye Liam! Liam loves me and I’ll see you soon!”

I love my boys. I am so happy that I have them in my life, but even happier that they have each other. Liam isn’t even 1 yet, and he’s already loving Benjamin and providing emotional support. I feel so lucky to be their mom.

Off the leash

Posted on September 20, 2011 by admin

Today, I was doing some online birthday shopping for Liam. Down at the bottom of the page, they have those “you might also be interested in” links, and I saw something that I had completely forgotten about: leashes for children.

I used to be judgemental about people who leash their children . . . until Benjamin started running away from us, giggling madly, when we were walking outside with him — a behavior which peaked (not coincidentally, I’m sure) when I was about 8 months pregnant with Liam and incapable of keeping up with him. After a few heart-stopping incidents, I completely rethought my no-leashes-on-kids philosophy. This is just one of those things that you can’t understand until you have a child that might require one. I didn’t give in to my passing desire to tether my child whenever we were outside, but I definitely stopped judging people who do. (I do, however, still question the sense of those who leash their child and carry their dog . . . )

But, I had honestly completely forgotten about kid leashes until today. For one, Benjamin’s temporary need for one has long since passed, but more so, because I just don’t see them here. I literally have not seen one since before we got on our plane at Dulles.

I wonder what an Austrian would say about a leashed child. The kids here, some barely older than Liam, rocket down the sidewalk on bikes and scooters. They seem very aware of the dangers in the street, and, as a whole, extremely well behaved in this regard. As a point of consideration, the culture with dogs and leashes here is subtle — it’s required that dogs be leashed nearly everywhere, but most people ignore the law most of the time . . . except in very specific situations (in stores, in restaurants, on public transportation) where there is near 100% adherence. The Austrians speak their minds when they see something they don’t agree with, so I imagine that anyone trying to walk their child on a leash in Vienna would get a stern German lecture — even in a restaurant or on the subway.

Playing tent

Posted on September 19, 2011 by admin

A long time ago (in relative terms) Benjamin started playing “tent” with his Grandma. They would climb into “her” bed (the guest bed at our house) and pull the covers over their heads. They’d bring a flashlight, and lots of toys, and sometimes books to read, too. Benjamin LOVES this game — it’s one of the first games he ever played, and he plays it enthusiastically with anyone who will participate.

He hasn’t gotten much chance to play for a while. He played it when my mom came to visit, and when Dan’s parents came (they’ve been trained to play, too). Dan and I will play with him from time to time, but it’s a tough game to play with one parent and two children in a bed — too much chance of someone toppling out onto the wood floor. So, it’s most often reserved for when one of the grandparents visits, or when we have some one on one play time with B (which doesn’t happen as often as I wish it would — and when it does, it is usually spent on trips to the park or other outdoor endeavors).

Today, Benjamin was pretty heartbroken at the idea of going to school. On the way, I was trying to think of something for him to look forward to in the afternoon — something to think about other than the two hours of school ahead of him. It’s rainy and cold today in Vienna, and all the fun activities I could think of are outside things: going to the park, blowing bubbles on the terrace, coloring with sidewalk chalk . . . I was stuck. But then, I thought of playing tent! So, I propsed the idea to him. He was delighted. He was still pretty sad about having to go to school, but every time I reminded him that after school, we’d go home, make a tent on the couch, get a flashlight and some books and play in the tent, he’d brighten up a bit.

It turned out that he had a great day at school: he played, he did arts and crafts, he had a snack (lots of grapes and lots of cake). After school, we came home, had a “snack” (otherwise known as lunch, but if I call it lunch, he won’t eat it), took a nap. And after nap time, we got out a sheet and built a tent in our living room. We got the flashlight, collected some books and toys, rounded up Liam, and all climbed into our couch tent (which is much more manageable than the tent in the bed). Benjamin and Liam had a wonderful time, and so did I. It was my favorite part of my whole day.

First steps

Posted on September 16, 2011 by admin

Liam is now mobile. Well, he’s been mobile for a while — ever since he could roll over he appeared to have a destination in mind, and once he started crawling, he was off to the races. I have seriously never seen a child crawl as fast as he does. Given that we have parquet floors here, his crawling was even at some personal cost: he’s regularly gotten blisters on his feet and hands ever since he started speeding around our hard floors.

Of course, first thing this morning, when our backs were turned for 15 seconds, gathering up Benjamin’s stuff for school, he toppled over and gave himself a good bonk on his head (of course, he hit the one part of the edge of the entertainment center that isn’t covered by cushioned foam) and he didn’t make any further attempts at walking today. I can’t imagine he’ll be discouraged for long, though — that just isn’t in his nature. (It did put a dent — no pun intended — in his other favorite pastime of banging his head on the floor, though, which he usually does at least a dozen times a day. Every time he did it today, he burst into tears — poor guy!) By this evening, our living room/dining room/kitchen had become a race track for Liam with his “push car” and Benjamin with his “push bike”. (Benjamin is faster, but not for long, I imagine.)

I suspect, now that he’s walking, he won’t look back — he’ll quickly overcome his fear of toppling over, and I imagine it’ll be nice to leave the blistered hands and feet in the past. It’s astonishing how fast things change. A year ago, I was eagerly anticipating my due date and Liam’s birth, and now, 355 days later, we are miles from there, in so many ways.

Missing school

Posted on September 13, 2011 by admin

Both yesterday and today, we kept B home from preschool. Not at all because he’s objecting to going (technically, he isn’t objecting to going — he’s very clear on the fact that what he’s objecting to is my leaving). He’s sick. Nothing serious — sniffle, cough, slight fever — no more than to be expected, considering he’s being introduced to a whole new world of “kid cooties” that he’s missed out on being exposed to thus far in his life.

Staying home with both kids is hard work, no question. Staying home with both kids when one is sick and the other is not is significantly harder. I don’t know what was more of a challenge over the past few days: keeping Liam quiet so B could rest, or keeping B calm while Liam was crawling laps around the living room, playing with B’s toys and causing general mayhem.

Psychologically, this has served a very good purpose — I’m actually looking forward to B going back to school. Partly because I won’t be trying to juggle two incompatible objectives at home, and partly because it’ll mean he’s feeling better. There’s also a small part of me that keeps thinking, “I can’t wait until he’s feeling better so I can get back to my normal schedule”, which is followed immediately by the realization that I don’t really have a “normal” schedule right now.

Hopefully, tonight will be restful for all of us (B does not sleep well when he’s congested) and the morning will dawn illness-free. Then we can get back to our new crazy schedule and work on adjusting to school . . . until B comes home with the next cootie infestation, or Liam or I come down with this one.

Why school isn’t just a big party

Posted on September 12, 2011 by admin

Yesterday, we went to a birthday party. The birthday boy is turning three, and Benjamin was in heaven at this party. The majority of the party was in the backyard — Benjamin rode bikes, a scooter and a train, he played in the sandbox, with toy cars and trucks, he ate pizza, cake and cookies — all on plates with Lightning McQueen on them. There were about half a dozen kids there of roughly the same age, plus a complement of little brothers, all Liam’s age or younger. He had an awesome time. From about 5 minutes after we got there, he played on his own, or with the other kids, almost entirely without our help (except for a couple of times when we were asked to extricate a ball from the hedge, or a toy from a shelf). The boys all played together and shared very well with little intervention on the part of any of the parents. We checked in with him, from time to time, and had to convince him to leave the toys for a few minutes in order to scarf down some dinner. He asked for my help to ride the scooter (which he’d never ridden before) but, although we kept a close eye on him, he spent large spans of time playing on his own.

On the way home, I was pleased with how well he had played, and how much he had enjoyed himself, but I was a little perplexed: why was it so fun and easy for him to play with these boys (who were mostly strangers to him) yet so traumatic to go to school? Isn’t it pretty much the same? So, I asked him. I thanked him for playing so well and being so polite at the party, and asked him if he had a good time. He said, enthusiastically, that he had. So, I asked, “Isn’t that pretty much what school is like?” And he looked at me, and asked (completely sincerely) “Did you leave the party, Mommy?”

He was actually asking, not making a point. I believe that he was having so much fun, that he thought he might actually have missed it, and maybe I had left. I assured him that I had been there the entire time.

But now I get it. From my perspective, as an adult, things at school are pretty much like a party (except no Lightning McQueen plates): there’s inside play time, outside play time, singing time and snack time — what’s not to love? To my little, sweet, three year old boy, the two things have very little in common — for one, Mommy is there, and a good time is had by all, for the other, I’m not, and that’s devastating. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t actually interact with me very much — it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t need me. My presence makes the difference between him having fun and not, him feeling secure and not. All the kids and fun games and toys in the world don’t make up for my absence.

Of course, that makes perfect sense, and this isn’t the first time I’m realizing this. But, I forget. I truly, honestly, forget. I get wrapped up in how nice the place is, how kind the teachers are, how sweet the other kids seem to be, and I fail to understand why he’s so upset about going to school. The truth is, it doesn’t matter where he is, if I leave, it’s a problem. There’s a part of me that’s thrilled that he feels that way (the alternative, although easier to deal with from a practical perspective, would hurt a little). But, I want my little boy to enjoy going to school, and to enjoy himself without my constant presence. I know that the upheaval of moving to a foreign continent isn’t helping, and neither is the fact that my kids have only been away from Dan and I a few short times since we’ve arrived here (they used to do it all the time, but they are out of practice).

I don’t know how the next few weeks will unfold, in terms of school, but I’d love to figure out a way for him to have half the fun at school as he did at this party. I’m inspired by how much fun he had playing with the other boys yesterday, and knowing how much of that interaction he will get at school. But I know that being away from me will be hard for him, and it remains to be seen if he’s really ready (and if I am).

Addition, subtraction and spontaneous German

Posted on September 9, 2011 by admin

I know, all parents think their kids are brilliant. But mine really are. (For the moment, I’m talking about Benjamin — not that Liam isn’t brilliant, I actually strongly suspect that he is, but the examples for today are from Benjamin.)

Last night, Liam was enjoying his Cheerios, and Benjamin was finished eating. Benjamin moved over a seat at the table so that he could sit next to Liam and help feed him. Benjamin’s answer to Liam’s interest in Cheerios is to inundate him — if he likes them, then he should have a lot of them! To keep Liam’s first day of eating Cheerios from also being his last, Dan implemented a rule of “Liam can only have 4 Cheerios on his tray at a time”. So, Benjamin looked down at the 2 remaining on his tray and said, “Ok, that means he can have 2 more”. (See? Brilliant.)

Then, today, we were on Skype with my mom. At the end of the conversation, as we were saying goodbye, he blurted out, “Bis Morgen!” (until tomorrow) which is how his teachers at school say goodbye to him every afternoon. (I am so impressed — first week of kindergarten, mostly spent crying, and he’s already picked something up!)

To the casual observer, these things would mean that my child can count to four and repeat a phrase he’s heard all week. But, from my perspective, he can do addition (subtraction, actually, maybe?) and speak German. Brilliant!

A Mommy Abroad

Our big adventure, as a family of three.

Category Archives: Kids and Parenting