Passing Time

I'm typing a lot - and hitting publish on almost nothing these days.

The last two weekends have been a wonderful break from the rather chaotic pace of weekends this summer. We've cleaned and organized and hiked and enjoyed Kaffee und Kuchen. Somehow, the lull in our Weekend Must Do Lists is translating into a lull in blogging as well.

Also, my father is in the hospital tonight - after 3 or 4 - depending on how you count - trips to the emergency room in the last 24 hours. I'd like to say there are outcomes in all this activity, but if you've been to a hospital in the States lately, then you know that hospital trips are mostly a lot of waiting.

Imitation

So, we're back to preschool and I'm enjoying the the routine - or maybe I should say I'm enjoying figuring out the routine. The reality of orchestrating everything is still messy.

New beginnings always give me hope about how things will be better when....

One of the things I've been hoping for is to see a lot less of this:

That's Noah (the big one) imitating Mattias (the little one). The partial de-evolution of the four-year-old this summer was one of the drawbacks to all that shared brotherly boredom.

My Mentor-in-Motherhood, and sometimes anonymous commenter, who has four kids of her own, once told me that it takes kids about 6 weeks to adjust to changes in routine. Last year, it did seem that Noah had about a 6 week honeymoon with preschool before he had a 4 week crash and burn period. So this year, I'm trying to withhold judgement on how it's going. He seems very excited now, but he's still imitating his brother.

In other words, maybe he'll forget how to act like an 18 month old and be less excited about preschool - in about 6 weeks. I'm not sure that's really a better scenario.

In the meantime, we find ourselves saying things to Noah like,
"Please use your words."
"Be a good listener."
"Don't step on your brother!" (as Mattias positions himself laying across the bottom step of the stairway.)

And regarding that stepping-on-your-brother thing, doesn't common sense kick in at some point? Do I need to say, "Don't step on your brother" twenty, forty, a hundred times before Noah knows it? Or how about, common sense would mean I don't have to say, "Don't step on your brother" in the first place, right? I have the distinct feeling that we are running out of appropriate consequences for relatively minor infractions.

I blame myself, really. When Noah was Mattias' age I was all into positive messages, and I thought that the word "no" was too abstract for him. Instead of saying, "Don't step on your brother" I would have said, "Step around your brother." What was I thinking?!? Now, life with Noah is... well, like he can't hear negative statements.

Mattias, however, hears "no" a lot. He's figured out it's a key word for getting Noah to laugh. Like this:

"No, Mattias! No laying on the step. Up, Mattias. Stand up."

Mattias, laughing. He stands up and lays down again. He waits. Noah steps on him. Mattias laughs. Noah laughs.

"Noah, no! Don't step on your brother!"

Both laugh.

Noah imitates Mattias by laying down across the second step. Mattias stands up and begins crawling over Noah.

"Ack! Ow! Ow!" Noah cries as Mattias crawls over him. (Unfortunately, Noah doesn't imitate Mattias' good sportsmanship at being stepped upon.) Noah attempts to stand up, which causes Mattias to tumble backward down two steps.

Mattias cries.
Noah cries.
Sigh. 

More bugs

I'm wondering if some large animal died in the creek near our house, so plentiful has the fly population been this year.

The boys (including Fritz) thought it was absolutely hilarious to see me run around the kitchen trying to swat flies with rolled up pieces of newspaper. It turns out I have pretty lousy aim, and so does the rest of my family. Or, at least, when they're imitating me, they have lousy aim.

Fritz suggested using the vacuum on them (what is it with our family and vacuums?), because that's what his mother does. Guess what? That technique still requires aim.

But then I remembered another one of my mother-in-law's tricks for catching flies: the pitcher plant!  It's less dramatic than its famous (also) carnivorous cousin, the venus fly trap. But, I hoped, perhaps a little less fragile. Did you know that merely touching a venus fly trap can render it useless? Can't have that with boys in the house.  I found a pitcher plant in the Impossible to Grow in Denver Orchids Section of my favorite greenhouse. I put it next to the kitchen sink, since that's the fly loitering grounds AND hopefully, I'll remember to water it there.

The unsuspecting fly creeps along the leaf:

(Except this fly is going the wrong way.)

Into the water filled pitchers.

Only distilled water using an eyedropper, friends.  These things are SENSITIVE.

Yum!

Just kidding.

The problem, obviously, is that the flies around here don't have aim, either. So, 16 hours after introductions, I spent a few hours swatting down a fly and dumped it in. 

The plant seems happy.  I guess it was also amused by my swatting skills.