Brent Thinks I'm Zoning Out and Soon I Will Get to See Lauren in Utah

I was looking over the last few entries in this blog. They have been filled with thoughts about Brent and Nate and Meg--the three people with whom I have the most interaction right now. I talk to Lauren every other day or so. Nathan has now decided that he needs to check up on how La is doing, too. I don't know if it is something that she notices--something that helps--or just another thing to manage as she works her way from sun up past sun down every day.

I haven't been taking pictures of things around me lately. No news of the rabbits or the lizards or the cat. The only thing that I really notice is that time slips through my fingers every day as easily as money does. Cool bugs and spiders, butterflies and caterpillars--where I once would have had Nathan or Brent "Stop! Hold still! Let me get my camera! I NEED a picture of this!" I now notice the creature and then go on with my world. There are so many incredible bits around me--I just don't have the energy lately to document their existence and preserve it in my own record.

Time for bed. I miss Meg and La and Nathan all being here. The house is much emptier than I would have thought it could be

Day Six for Kate

The Original Three!

Meg, Jon, Anton

Megan: Artist, Friend, Vocalist, Daughter, Wife,

and Mother Extraodinaire

Kate:

The Newest Member of the Team

Good news! After a week of throwing tantrums whenever he saw his sister, Jon is now able to stay in the same room with her--as long as she doesn't move or make noise.

Progress.

Kate is now 6 pounds and 4 ounces. I'm attaching some photos of her and of Jon, Meg and Anton. The rest of my photos have been of Jon showing me one of his trucks/trains/cars--the truck/train/car right up next to the camera and a glimpse of his eyes or chin in the background. I'm not sending any of those since the only person who is fascinated with them is Jon.

On Kate's Third Day

Mom and Kate

Dinnertime

Close-up of big brother Jon

Princess Kate herself.

First Photos of Kate at Hospital

New Father, Mother, Brother and Baby

After a long 24 hours, Jon is finally reunited with his mom and dad--and makes peace with his new sister who was smart enough to bring him a present when they first met. It was a Thomas the Tank Engine and a few other assorted train cars. "Toot! Toot!" After Jon was able to spend some time reconnecting with Anton and Meg, I got to bring Kate over and have Jon actually look at her tiny face. He was ready to acknowledge the source of the suffering he had just experienced as Meg and Anton had needed to leave him in the care of others--others he knew, but who weren't Mom and Dad and who appeared suddenly and seemed to take the place of Mom and Dad.

As he first really saw her, Meg encouraged him to "Give her soft pats . . ." which, of course, he did with much tenderness and precision. At this point, Kate was able to "give" Jon the train set that Megan had so carefully choosen and prepared. At that point, Jon seemed to feel that his world was again a safe and happy place. He also remembered to thank Kate repeatedly for the train set. Smart sister. Incredible mom.

Megan with Kate. Both are so tiny and perfectly formed--incredible.

Megan also spends time admiring Jon's new Lego truck and trailer, picked out and constructed and then glued together by Uncle Nate.

An almost-silouette of Anton, Meg and Jon against the hospital window.

This one is for Nate. The Lego creation was a BIG HIT! Jon took it to bed with him tonight . . . very high praise indeed.

It is very late--after midnight--but I wanted to get these first photos up so that you could all see the newest addition to our family. I am tired--Jon emotionally and physically exhausted. I am sore--Meg just beginning to heal from giving birth. I feel overwhelmed--Anton now with an additional child to nurture and care for.

I have it very easy. It is good to be here in Maryland with Meg and her family. Their home is a refuge and an enchanting place where Meg's artwork adorns the walls and Anton's papers collect in columns of strength as he works, serves the Bishop and cares for his family. Jon and I had ice cream tonight for dinner. For breakfast, Jon and I will probably have left-over macaroni and cheese that Meg made a few nights ago. WAAAAA! The world is upside down and all in the right place at the same time.

Twenty-second Birthday of a Man Whom it is Hard-to-Remember-That-I-Once-Cradled-in-My-Arms.

Incredible tee shirt designed and executed by his sister, Megan. Kudos to her for a really awesome (his own word) present.

Meg's own signature and the date of her creation.

Brent and Nate on Nate's 22nd birthday. They are both so tall. And I do not think that they will ever really realize how strong they are. When either offers to rub my back, they start softly but quickly change to pressure and (in Brent's case) pushing on my spine in an effort to assuage the (constantly disintegration of my vertebrae--long other story that has no application here except to indicate that they are trying to help) stiffness of my back. In fact, Brent then starts to push on the middle of my spine in an effort to get it to "pop" back into place.

I do not do "pop."

You get the idea.

I Am Grateful for Rain, Orange Semi Trucks, and Rusty Nails

Pictures of Jon in his natural habitat.

Jon and 2 dump trucks, two race cars, and a handful of MardiGras beads.

It had been raining all day. We came out of the building on our way to run some errands and Jon found a spout and a puddle of water. Mom went to run the errands and Grandma watched while Jon explored and played in the small oasis of water. Two of his greatest loves, water and trucks, combined to occupy him completely for the better part of an hour. Only when his hands were all puckery from so much time in his small pool and his sleeves sodden from the splashing and the drizzling rain did Jon finally stand up and look around. He saw me and lifted the sopping wet cuffs of his jacket to show me--he then decided that he was thirsty and sucked on the sponges that now surrounded his wrists. I asked if he were ready to go in and he reluctantly nodded. I began to walk around the corner to the main door of the apartment complex--Jon, still held mesmerized by the magic of the downspout's miniature waterfall. I walked slowly--only glancing back out of the corner of my eye. Jon still stood there--watching the water trickle down from the spout. He noticed my absence and walked quickly to catch up with me at the corner. "Where's your truck?" I asked. Looking around him, he spotted the bright orange of one of his favorite tracker trailers and ran back to recover it. He fetched it, but was still reluctant to surrender and come inside--where he had been stuck for the last three days--held captive by the frigid rain and high winds. I kept walking, he finally caught up with me and we went back inside and upstairs to his apartment; home.

I am enchanted by the faerie look of him here.

While Jon was playing with his truck and the water, he also found a few rusty nails that had been washed off of the roof--who knows how long ago. He found one that was about 3 inches long. Now, one of Jon's joys in life is putting things INTO other things: he specializes in putting his smaller cars into his larger cars. This nail, he discovered, was the perfect size to put into the circular slot where the semi connected with the trailer. He carefully placed the nail into its place and, for a time, concentrated exclusively in "giving a ride" to the nail--pushing the semi carefully on the sidewalk around where he was crouching. He attempted to place some muddy soil onto the top of the nail so that he could then wash it off in the water dripping from the downspout. The nail, he discovered, did not possess the lateral surface area to carry the dribble of mud in sufficient quantity for Jon to then put it under the spout and clean if off. The semi, however, as well as the trailer were perfect for this process and he spent a long time carefully getting the vehicles "dirty" and then immediately washing them clean again. His hands, too, it must be noted, were also washed completely clean after each mud-to-truck-to-downspout cycle. He found great satisfaction in creating a logical series of events and then carrying out that series again and again. Very serious stuff--must be repeated to be perfected and established as a viable system in Jon's world.

I write this and wonder what things I am trying to link and then repeat in order to give my daily experiences order and routine.

Here, he sits on my small suitcase as he tells me about his red COOL CAR.

I Am Being a Grandmother This Week

Jon and his mom--lost in the serious consideration of one of his favorite cars.

Jon then tells me about the car.

His mom cut his hair since Christmas--the last time I was with him--he is no long a baby. Jon has graduated from baby to toddler--almost to pre-schooler.

This is supposed to be the video of Jon and his mom reading a bedtime story.

I am being a grandma this week. It is a most excellent experience. I have had the opportunity to get to know better my grandson Jon. He is two and three months old and understands Greek, English and is able to communicate with his parents quite effectively in ASL. His passion is cars, trucks, cars, trains, cars, ice cream, cars . . . and, oh yes, cars. There are COOL CARS and NEW CARS and FOO CARS [a clone of the Greek word for truck and his generic label for wheeled vehicles]. Trains are CHOO CHOO! and tractors are GRUMMM GRUMM [sounded back and deep in the throat]. He puts himself to sleep by singing the ABC Song with lyrics of CAR CAR CAR CAR CAR CAR CAR . . . [you get the idea] or MA-MA MA-MA MA-MA MAAAA [again, you get the idea] and has the CARS DVD memorized. He is also a fan of SHAUN THE SHEEP—which I take credit for, since he first experienced this creation while visiting at my home. A DVD of Thomas the Tank Engine short stories is also one of the choices he picks to watch some times. His mom limits his DVD time to under an hour a day—most frequently watched in 15 minute intervals throughout the day. His day is full, with little time to sit still watching someone else’s creativity. He will lay for a long time on his stomach on the carpet—lining up 8 or 9 cars or train engines or small trucks. His mom says that she loves watching him when his does this—pushing the line of vehicles back and forth, changing one car for another in the line. He is a thoughtful young man, pressing his index finger on his lower lip and chin as he considers an idea or situation before him. He is visually oriented—like his mom he can sit quietly and happily looking at an intricately illustrated page and pointing out items he notices, making the signs for some of them or for their colour.

Tonight I am here with him while his parents go together to do something.

I am just back from Jon’s room. Since I am an unknown quantity as far as bedtime is concerned, he has enjoyed straying out of his room—a drink of water, another car to sleep with, leading me into his parents’ room and indicating that he would like to sleep in their bed. It is a sheepish, though determined, inquiry into the validity of what I "enforce" as his “bed time”. After his third trip out of his bedroom, I put myself on the floor in the hall—against the wall—reading. When he opened the door the next time, I merely turned my head, looked at him, and smiled. He returned my smile and then backed into his room and crawled into bed. I thought he was finally asleep—but after 30 minutes, he again waundered out of his room. I lead him by the hand back to bed and told him that I would be glad to pat his back. He lay down with head on his pillow, nose in his favorite blanket, car clutched in his right hand—and I softly patted his back: the same way that I had patted his mother to sleep more than 25 years ago. After a few minutes, I also began a low, soft hum—a few notes in slow rhythm. It was soothing for both him and for me.

Now I am back online trying to download a short video of Jon’s mom reading him a bedtime story two nights ago. His Grandma Anne, I have been informed, has “an ancient” computer—so I am posting pictures and the video here so that she can see them without me having to reconfigure them three or four times so that they will attach and send successfully.

Jon lives a sweet, structured life—directed by a mother who has read “The Happiest Toddler” and other books and been intelligent enough to glean from her readings select ideas that she has adapted to enhance her own brilliant method of raising my first grandson. There is music here and logical thought; visits to the Thrift Store and Trader Joes and Ikea; Nursery at Sunday morning Church; endless songs and books and walks outside—down to the sidewalk by the main street where [on a really good day] they will be able to see a garbage truck, dump truck—or better still—a police or fire engine with a horn or siren blasting out. Today was a bumper day—lots of good trucks and cars to see.

Being here in MD, sleeping on an air mattress along one wall of the living room, I am so very much at home. There is a sweet spirit here, welcome and inviting to everyone who is invited in. Jon’s parents take time for Jon—but also serve the many others who are under their sphere of influence—people who need help, friendship, and a glimpse of what true joy can be.