Tag: Henry

ICYMI: Ferragosto edition

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Here in Rome, we recently passed Ferragosto.  This one day holiday has somehow expanded into most of the month, and the city has shut down.  Day cares are closed.  At least half the stores in my neighborhood are closed.  Romans are getting out of dodge.

We too did some traveling.  And now travel recovering.  I don’t know that I’ll be completely absent this August, but things will probably (continue to) be pretty quiet this month.  I’m aiming to enjoy time with family and friends and do more thinking on long-term projects.

Until then, please amuse yourself with some recent blog offerings you may have missed.

On the blog:

My Aunt (paraphrased):  I liked your post.  So you’re just figuring out what you’re doing, just like the rest of us, huh?  Yup.

My new pan is here.  It is glorious.

Need any thoughts on jumpstarting your back-to-school To Do List?

Henry still cracks us up.  And is ridiculous.  Mac is gettin’ big.

Umm, so we went back to the States, and I still didn’t drive.  Ridiculous, I know.

So my running has fallen off with recent vacations.  This is unfortunate because my half is coming up SOON and you know I can’t skip it after going through this.

We’ve talked clothes for Rome.  Now see shoes.  #teambirkenstocks

On the internets:

The one piece of clothing every billionaire is wearing at summer camp  (Hat tip MDBH)  Hmm, maybe I’m really just seeing lots of billionaires everywhere?  #vestupson #vestlife

Kind of depressing and inspirational all at once.  Time to get off the couch!

I must not helicopter, I must not helicopter . . .

Me:  Do you have Grindr on your phone?  I want to swipe people.
Sister:  You mean Tinder.  And no.  Gross.
Looks like she has a point.  I don’t even know what to do with raising kids in this, especially boys.  Sigh.

Enjoy the rest of your summer.  I miss you already!

 

Henry is a hoot: Volume 5

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Henry says some pretty hilarious things.  I’ve been told that I used to say hilarious things once, but my parents didn’t write it down and cannot remember even one witty anecdote.  Inspired by YHL’s Clara Conversations, I wanted to share some Henry-isms as I collect a critical mass.

2.23_hoot

Henry:  What are you doing?
Me:  Flossing.
Henry:  What is flossing?
Me:  I’m getting food out from in between my teeth.
Henry:  You going to eat the food again?
Me:  Uh, no.
Henry:  Yeah.  Gross.
Agree.  Totes gross. 

Henry:  (From his crib)  Mommy, where are you?
Me:  (entering)  Here I am!
Henry:  No, I was saying “Wookiee where are you?”
I guess I’ll just go then.

Henry:  (Upon receiving his dinner plate) Yeah boyyy!!!
So I guess less quoting Flavor Flav then . . .  

Henry:  You want to fight me?
Me:  No.  I’m a lover, not a fighter.
Henry:  You love to fight?

Henry:  That was a good one.  (Said graciously after I accidentally–I swear!–pegged him in the head with a ball.)

James:  Should I get fresh pajamas for the kids?
Me:  I don’t care.
Henry:  I love it.

Psst.  Want more hilarious Henry?  Check him out here, here, here, and here. 

Very Normal Henry (with a side of Assisi)

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Dear Henry,

Instead of rambling about your vocabulary (immense) and your size (also immense), let me tell you a story about a recent trip that sums up the essence di Henry, if you will.

On a sunny, long weekend in June, we did an overnight trip to Spoleto, Cortona, the Perugina chocolate factory, and Assisi.  There were plenty of quintessential Henry moments throughout, but I’d like to talk about our time in Assisi.

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Continue reading →

Henry is a hoot: Volume 4

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Henry says some pretty hilarious things.  I’ve been told that I used to say hilarious things once, but my parents didn’t write it down and cannot remember even one witty anecdote.  Inspired by YHL’s Clara Conversations, I wanted to share some Henry-isms as I collect a critical mass.

2.23_hoot

Henry:  (After tackling his brother and wrestling him to the ground)  I’m baptizing Mac!

Henry:  I want Mac’s cookie.
Me:  No, that’s Mac’s.
Henry:  Mac wants to share with me?
Me:  No.  No, he doesn’t.
Henry:  Mac, you want me to hold that for you?
You have to admire his persistence.

Henry:  I want to have a lot of money so that I can buy a Ferrari.
It’s good to have goals.  I guess.

Henry:  (Pointing at my bruises)  What did we do to you?
What indeed, dear child.  Parenting: a full contact sport.

Psst.  Want more hilarious Henry?  Check him out here, here, and here. 

The devolution of pacifier usage on a trip

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Remember how I told you guys we went to Puglia for Easter?  No?  I haven’t covered that trip here?  Yeesh.  I’ll get on that.  Next blog project:  Puglia!

Anyways, have I told you how much Henry loves his pacifier?  Or his chupito, as we call it, a holdover from Spanish language daycare in DC.  He is OBSESSED.  In his earlier days, we tried to get him to accept a comfort item.  You know what his comfort items are?  MORE CHUPITOS.  We’ve got him down to one chupito that lives in the crib.  He knows that it is only for sleeping or at least he must be in the crib to access it.  (Which sometimes results in his taking “naps” where he just sits in the crib with his chupito.  I try not to take it personally.)

The plan is to attempt cold turkey at age three if he hasn’t already kicked the habit.  This does not sound like fun to me, but hey, that’s future Melissa’s problem.  Let her figure it out.  (If we fail, however, I see 7-year-olds walking around with pacifiers here.  At least he won’t be a social outcast.)

This works out 99% of the time.  But on trips, such as our five days in Puglia . . . . Let’s just say that the rules get chucked out the window.  It usually goes something like this.

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Day 1:  “No, sweetie.  You can’t have your chup.  Chup is only for sleeping.”

Day 2:  “Well, I guess you can have it in the car.  You might take a cat nap, right?”

Day 3:  “No, the food isn’t here yet.  No, you can’t run around.  Please stop screaming.  Hey, would you like your chupito?”

Day 4:  “Can you walk just a little bit more?  Uh, what if I give you your chupito?”

Day 5:  “Whatever.  I don’t care anymore.  Just take it.”

We are susceptible on trips because he knows we have it.  Tricksy Henries.  I’ve left it home for day trips, and he doesn’t believe that we don’t have it.  “Mommy, it’s in your pocket.”  “Daddy, has it.”  NOPE.  Sorry, kiddo.  Search me.  (He does.)

I do admit to enjoying seeing a little more of baby Henry when he has it.  I’m also scared of him dropping his nap when it goes away.  But it must be done.  He is fairly OK with his baby brother having the chup at times that he can’t.  And when they both have them, such as reading a bedtime story, they play chupito steal where they try to snatch the pacifiers out of each others mouths.  It is both adorable and annoying.

Enjoy it while you can, my precious

Enjoy it while you can, my precious

So that’s where we are.  For sleep ONLY.  Or at least until our next trip.

Did you chuck the chup?  Any tips?

Henry is a hoot: Volume 3

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Henry says some pretty hilarious things.  I’ve been told that I used to say hilarious things once, but my parents didn’t write it down and cannot remember even one witty anecdote.  Inspired by YHL’s Clara Conversations, I wanted to share some Henry-isms as I collect a critical mass.

2.23_hoot

Henry:  (As he wipes out)  Down goes me!  (Apparently, our saying “Down goes Henry” in our “Down goes Frazier” voices has rubbed off.)

Henry:  Get off that swing!
Me:  Why?
Henry:  There is a spider on it.  A spider and bird poop.

Henry:  That’s Biglietto!  (Referring to Roberto who works in our building.  Biglietto = ticket.)

Henry:  I’m not Goliath.  I’m not David.  I’m just me.

Psst.  Want more hilarious Henry?  Check him out here and here. 

Too much gelato

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Once upon a time when I was a kid–probably between ages six and eight–I remember having a full-on freak out at bed time.  I was sitting there, gasping for air, keening like a wounded animal.  All because I was suddenly gripped with a paralyzing and suffocating fear about dying.

I couldn’t shake it.  My dad was called in to cope.  Either because my mom tried and wasn’t getting through or she decided this was more my dad’s wheelhouse or because she had lots of other little kids to put to bed; I don’t remember.  I do remember sitting with my dad by the fireplace, listening to him talk.

I don’t remember what he said.  I really wish I did.  All I know is that I eventually calmed down enough to go to sleep that night and many other nights in the future.

I’ve had many years to wonder about and think what I would tell my own children, when they wake up gasping in the night some day.  When they realize that everyone on this Earth and everyone they love and even their own little bodies will not be here forever.

I hope I don’t completely muddle it.  I’ll try to talk about God and heaven and things, but I certainly don’t have it all figured out.  In many ways, I’m not so far from that young girl who was scared to close her eyes at night.

What does make sense to me is talking about having too much ice cream, or gelato, if we are still in an Italian frame of mind.  I’ll try to explain that having all the gelato you want, all the time, every day sounds like it would be wonderful.  For awhile, it probably would be wonderful.  But then, eventually, you’d start to crave something else.  Maybe brownies.  Or potato chips.  Possibly you may even start to want some apples or broccoli.  I know it sounds hard to believe, but you really would get sick of gelato.  That’s why gelato is a special treat food.  That’s why we savor it.  Because we know it won’t go on forever or always be there.

Meaning that your life is like gelato.  If it went on forever and always, it wouldn’t be special.  You wouldn’t feel a push to do things or try things because there would always be more time.

But it is finite.  It is special.  You only have so much of it.  You have to act now.  You have to try all the things and meet the people and sing the songs or do whatever you want to do.  It is special because it is scarce.  And precious.

I’m not sure that this is the best analogy.  Or that it even makes sense, particularly to a six year old.  I’ll have to work on it.

But this does somewhat describe my thoughts on my time at home.  When we first got here, I reveled in all of our free time.  The days stretched out and we could do anything.  Or nothing.  Whatever we wanted.  After feeling hyper-scheduled, this abundance of time was just what I needed.

Until it wasn’t.  Too much gelato.  The freedom started to feel stifling.  More clock watching instead of enjoyment.

This is one of the reasons I’m enjoying Henry’s part-time adventures at school.  It isn’t a true break for me because I’m still hanging out with wants-to-walk-everywhere-but-can’t Mac, but it provides some structure to our days.

The little bit of structure helps make the rest of our unscheduled time that much sweeter.  I may continue to tinker with the gelato balance in our days, but, for now, it definitely helps.

Henry is a hoot: Volume 2

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Henry says some pretty hilarious things.  I’ve been told that I used to say hilarious things once, but my parents didn’t write it down and cannot remember even one witty anecdote.  Inspired by YHL’s Clara Conversations, I wanted to share some Henry-isms as I collect a critical mass.

2.23_hoot

Henry:  (as his nose is running AGAIN)  My nose is bleeding!

Henry:  I want to watch Train Robbers.
Me:  You mean Chuggington?
Henry:  Yeah.

Henry:  (Reading his new favorite book ever, AKA the Lego catalog)  Hulk is wearing a big diaper.

Me:  What is your (stuffed) turtle named?
Henry:  Alligator.
Me:  (The next morning.)  How is Alligator Turtle?
Henry:  No.  His name is Elefante Spiderweb.

Henry:  (After almost every meal) Please clean my messy manos!!

Psst.  Want more hilarious Henry?  Check him out here. 

Halfway to 3

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Dear Henry,

Not too long ago, some Facebook peeps commented that 2.5 was their absolute favorite age.  I was like, say what?  But now we have reached 2.5, and I totally get it.  You are still wild and you have your meltdowns, but you are so sweet and fun.  You say the craziest things sometimes.  I’m always impressed by how much we can talk about how many things.  I need to up my explanation game.  I feel the “why” questions coming soon.

4.2_kinz

You have a mind like an elephant.  I’m shocked at the things you remember, even after a few months!  You knew where things were at the zoo A FEW MONTHS AFTER YOUR VISIT.  We went to a certain market ONE TIME and we bought bread.  When we returned a few months later, you asked “where’s my bread?”  After you saw a Spiderman outside a museum ONE TIME you ask about Spiderman every time we walk by.  I actually opened your shades the other day and you immediately asked “where are the pinwheels?”  Our neighbors had pinwheels in their planters AT CHRISTMAS.

You are getting more manipulative.  Mommy is your favorite unless Mommy is there and you are stalling for bed and then you need Daddy.  You also need more water, more blankets, a kiss from the parent who is not there, and anything else you can think of to extend your time of awakeness.  It’s usually not very bad, but having you put up any fight is a change for us.  Once you are in bed, you are usually a top notch sleeper.  Unless you’ve lost your chupito (pacifier).  I’ve started to talk up the fact that pacifiers leave at 3.  We’ll see how that goes.  I think you have high sleep needs.  You usually nap at least two hours each afternoon, often much longer.  You are particularly wiped out after a morning at school.

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That’s right.  You are a bona fide bambino, attending 4-6 hours of day care each week.  You started in February.  It has mostly gone well.  At first, getting you out the door in the morning was the absolute worst.  Now it is no walk in the park, but you look forward to school.  (I need to brush up on my car make and models; this is your favorite thing to discuss on the walk to school.)  Sometimes you ask about going when we’re at home.  Valentina is your primary teacher.  Your bestie is Isabella.  I’m not entirely sure what you do at school because you refuse to provide details, and I am suspicious of the tales you relate.  It feels strange to me that you have your own things you do and your own secrets after we spent all of our time together, but I’m happy that you are happy.  And I know you will have many many more of your own things as you get older, and I need to get used to it.  Baby steps for both of us.

You still terrorize your brother, but you can be very sweet with him as well.  I am trying to persuade you to stop taking his toys.  He gets turns too.  Sometimes you offer him a trade so you can steal the toy you want.  I eye all of these things suspiciously.  It makes me remember when I convinced my younger sister to pay me for doing stupid things.  I’m on to you, kid.

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But particularly lately, you have had some awesome moments with Mac.  You really want to play with him.  Even though you are still about 150% too rough, you are starting to take his desires and needs into your play.  Sometimes you bring him toys, just because.  He fell over while you were playing, and you grabbed his hands and helped him back up.  I melted a little.  You ask frequently “What is Mac doing?” and “What is Mac talking about?”  This is all very good because that kid worships you.  I’m really excited to watch the epic Henry-Mac friendship unfold.  Let’s just try to keep the broken bone count to a minimum.

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How could I not love this age?  You just unpromptedly came up and said “I love you so much.”  After a timeout where you threw something at me, you came over and said you were sorry.  We have inside jokes, such as me pretending to not know that you want to take your pants off at nap time.  You dance with abandon.  You have a zeal for life.  Sometimes I wish your head wasn’t so hard and you would save your wrestling for Daddy, but I love that you love me and want to spend your time with me.

You are still a pretty good little eater.  You make it easy for me to have a take it or leave it policy.  If I were worried that you weren’t getting enough, I’m not sure I could take such a hard stance.  You still like zucchini.  Strawberry season has started here, and you are singlehandedly putting a dent in Rome’s strawberry supply.  You are definitely taking advantage of the Italian goodies; pasta, pizza, salumi, and cheese are all your jam.  Not to mention the gelato.  First you liked all pink gelati, but now you are branching out into pistachio, biscotto, and many others.

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With all of your eating, I shouldn’t be surprised that you are growing.  And how.  I haven’t measured you lately, but I can tell.  You can reach more elevator buttons.  When we first got here, I cuffed your pants up twice.  Now I don’t roll them at all.  We just moved you up to your size 7 shoes.  I need to doublecheck and see if you actually have anything that fits for this summer.

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We still read a lot.  Which I love.  Your just went through an obsession with the Lego catalog.  Not the free Lego magazine which you also enjoy, but the straight up catalog.  You called it your “Ninja book.”  You also like all things vehicular and all things Richard Scarry.  Mac is still more into destroying the books than reading them, but I’m hoping we can have even more story time with the three of us soon.

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I had no idea you would be capable of so much at age two.  What is next year?  Defending your thesis on best molding practices for play doh?  I’ll be excited to see.  Just try not to lose your cheeks just yet!

Love, Mom

P.S.  Henry at two and two and a quarter.