Kids of summer

Jackson Place Cohousing kids run with a pack, like wolves. On hot summer days, our two are out the door barefoot before breakfast, checking in on their friends’ plans for the day and hoping hoping hoping for another day of sprinklers and impromptu picnics and treehouse play. We have more than a dozen kids of varied ages and there is a lot to do in a day, even on our high-density city acre that houses 28 families.

They gather in the shady courtyard to repair bikes with a neighbor dad or on the sunny terrace to draw around themselves with chalk. Bubbles are blown. Sandcastles built and demolished and built again. Holes dug to nowhere in the middle of the little orchard hill. They enthusiastically help us water the gardens and each other. It’s a rare day when no kids can play, when there are no voices raised in sweet laughter or short-lived spats.

And the parents drift in and out, the usual weekend routines interrupted by the heat and the dream of summer freedom. We take turns to make sure that the water battles don’t shower our neighbors’ houses, that the sandbox toys are shared more or less equally, and that bandages and hugs magically appear whenever they’re needed. Even the adults without kids slow down on their way through the courtyard to smile, to admire the baby robins just peeking over the nest, or to chat with a parent who needs a little adult connection after a morning of complex peace negotiations. By the end of the afternoon, the sun and everyone’s energy levels are beginning to fade. A quick snack or early dinner can produce a little more time for play, but soon tousled heads are heading upstairs for bedtime stories and dreams.

I want to remember these moments, too many to photograph, and pass them on to my grown-up sons. Summer days don't last forever, you know.

g for Good

We are loving gDiapers, after only a day of trying them out. I don't think they'll replace our cloth diapers, but we're happy to have a disposable that's flushable. Or compostable.

And Cuinn's got the word.

"Dad, we should use gDiapers because they decompose faster than plastic!"

Times Two

You could have guessed this was coming: Kevan's turn for a haircut. Though it took several days of "Yes, I want a haircut but not right now" before he was truly ready, as much as a three-year-old can be. And we found out just how squirmy a 3YO can be during a haircut, which was why the intended pageboy turned into another skater dude cut (long bangs, shaved back). Fine hair is much harder to disguise mistakes in than curly hair. Correcting one mistake led to another, and then we had to get out the clippers. Next summer (I'm hoping it'll be next summer), we'll try again.

And I'm reminded all over again about how much hair makes a difference. Coming home at dusk the other day, I didn't recognize the boys at the far end of the walkway though I heard my children's excited voices. Then they ran to me, and I realized those boys were my kids. I wonder how they'll be treated differently now that they have more 'boylike' hairstyles. I'm glad they they got the chance to choose their own time for haircuts, if not the exact styles. When they get older, they'll likely have more input on that as well.

First haircut

Cuinn's long braids and ponytails, his riotous curls trailing down his back... these are a thing of the past. After one too many disastrous hair-brushing experiences, Cuinn finally nerved himself up to cut his hair. Our requirements were that he ask (on his own) for three successive days. He did it, I lopped off the major hanks and Matt touched up the back and evened everything out. A team effort.

His new style: "skater cut". It's long on top, short in the back (where most of the tangles were). I was surprised at how much it transformed him, and how much it meant to me to see him transformed so suddenly. Another part of growing up, I guess.

Didn't I tell you?

About a month after the sleep study, Cuinn stopped snoring so much. He still snores a little, but nowhere near what he used to.

So no tonsillectomy and a lot less worry about how much oxygen his brain is getting at night.

My funny valentine

One of those moments that need to be remembered. We got our first valentines yesterday from Cuinn, after an afternoon spent in the playroom with R and L, and instead of portraits, he drew pictures of the parts of us that he remembers the most. Mine included a nipple. It's logical, and kind of sweet.

Moo.

The latest word on that sleep thing

I've forgotten to write down the results of Cuinn's sleep study, which is a sign that nothing dramatic has occurred. Yet.

He ended up with an average of 10 incidents of apnea/hypopnea per hour (apnea being no breathing, hypopnea being blocked breathing). Five incidents per hour are considered normal for adults. His sleep stages were normal, though he did take slightly longer to get into REM the first time. His blood oxygen level didn't go under 86% (90% is considered normal for adults).

The NP at the sleep clinic was very concerned and pressed me to take steps to correct everything. We made an appointment with an otolaryngologist (ENT in the old school), to ponder the size of Cuinn's admittedly large tonsils. When I made the appointment, I asked how many kids coming from the sleep study to the ENT get a recommendation for tonsillectomies. The answer; most of them. Matt and I tossed around the possibility of surgery, though we really wanted to avoid unnecessary cutting.

The otolaryngologist told us that Cuinn's tonsils are a 3+ on a size scale of 1-4+, where 4+ would be touching in the middle. She said it's likely that his adenoids are similarly enlarged. And she said that she wouldn't say that an index of 10/hour was grounds for immediate surgery. What? I wasn't sure I'd heard her correctly. She said that by my report Cuinn wasn't showing any daytime signs of sleep apnea like hyperactivity, excessive weight gain, etc. And since he's homeschooled, even a little hyperactivity would not necessarily be a drawback. She went on to say that if we wanted to do the surgery, she would be okay with that (no Munchausen syndrome by proxy here), but she didn't think we really needed to. Yet. O-kaaaayyy.

Caveats: If he gets tonsillitis, he might have some serious difficulties breathing. His sleep index might go up in time (or down, if his throat grows more in relation to those big tonsils). And the tonsils are not really necessary for the immune system after the first couple of years.

And now that nobody's pushing us to do the surgery and we don't need to do it so he fits in at school, I'm thinking about whether we should do it anyway. Cuinn's always had a problem with nightwaking and crying, about as long as he's been snoring. I've been wondering about how that might be related to the apnea. It's hard to listen to him snoring at night without wondering if we could make that easier for him, to allow more air to get in. Would he sleep better? There are no guarantees either way.

So there's no rush, but then we have just enough information to be ambivalent. I think we'll sit on the fence for a little while yet.

10 things I think I know about Kevan, age 2.5

1. Favorite things to say: "Not sure what you're saying," "Please, mama milk?" "Mama, I'm a little cat."

2. He likes whatever Cuinn is doing, saying, or eating (and yet also has a mind of his own).

3. He has five babies who are often sleeping nearby, wherever we are.

4. He often asks if I will carry him outside if the smoke detector goes off (as it does quite frequently when I'm cooking and I forget to turn on the fan).

5. He loves to run free in his birthday suit. Any time, any season.

6. He sometimes wants to read to me at bedtime. Mostly he turns pages and giggles.

7. Yesterday, he was a little fish in an aquarium, eating the cabbage leaves and broccoli that his brother dropped into the water.

8. The lollipop he ate on Halloween was the biggest deal ever.

9. He weighs .5lb. less than his brother.

10. He has decided that he doesn't like soup, onions, or squash sauce on pasta.

10 things I think I know about Cuinn, age 4

Because, really, how well do we really know our children?

1. He loves to do puzzles and games.

2. His favorite phrase is: "Let's play a game." (Also heard: "I was first.", "I don't have any more gallons of strength.", and "Want to watch me run fast?")

3. He loves chocolate chips, ice cream, and cake (he also gets excited about oatmeal-raisin bars, good cheese, and bread-and-butter sandwiches).

4. He likes to sit in the yellow chair at every meal.

5. He has 10 children but they're already 10 years old, so they don't nurse anymore.

6. His kid friends are: Amelia, Rosie & Theo, Owen & Sophie, Lucy & Ella, Nova & Vaughn, Gabriel, Ezra, Sadie, and Hannah. He has a lot of adult friends too.

7. He can dress himself most of the way but still needs some help with tricksy buttons.

8. He has gone most of a day using a toilet, and frequently vows to attain the coveted three-day goal, after which he will wear big-kid training pants.

9. Right now, his favorite bedtime book is My First Baking Book (and we made the chocolate cake dinosaur for his 4th birthday, complete with chocolate chip teeth).

10. His nicknames for himself include Cuinn-bo-binn, Mr. Beefy Lumberjack, and Medium-sized-cat.

Anecdotal Lunch

Matt: What do you want for lunch, Kevan?
Kevan: Eggs!
Matt: Do you want some green beans in your eggs?
Kevan: Me think about it.
[pause]
Kevan: Me want green beans in my eggs.