teddy, meet teddy

I was told that babies find an attachment object at about 8-10 months, so I started substituting the blankets randomly, putting different stuffed animals or dolls with my boys each day, and--placing the teddy/puppy I wanted them to "attach to" right near them. It might sound odd, but I would sometimes rub it on the back of my sweaty neck so it would smell familiar to them. And, with both boys, it worked. Wild, huh?

So, since I could, I got duplicates. Actually, there were three but we think one Teddy got thrown away in a vomiting episode. The loveys are in rotation, or rather, two are in rotation for each boy. Pook has a third puppy but it still has tags on it and may just hang out in my closet until I have a grandchild! Ha! Funny thought.

I'd had a Blue Puppy when I was tiny, a gift from an aunt who was still in college and found it at the school bookstore. I slept with his ear for a time after he'd sort of dissolved, then somehow my parents got me onto Teddy. They don't even know where or how I got Teddy even though I swear I have a memory of a three year old girl giving him to me, used. I still have Teddy, up on the kids' bookshelf. He comes down occasionally, but he's pretty tattered and fragile. I give him a hug and kiss but don't let them rough handle him. So when I got pregnant my mom found me a Blue Puppy for Pook. We searched for the right Teddy for Bug and found the same brand as Pup-- "My First Puppy" and "My First Teddy" by Gund. Except I think now they've changed. Because last summer I had to go searching online for a Teddy after I managed to leave both Ted and Pup at home when we flew out of town. (I realized it before the plane took off too. I felt awful, but didn't really think the pilot would wait for me to drive home and back before take off. Although I never asked.) So when I arrived at our destination I started checking to see if I could get new ones. I couldn't, but the kids coped pretty well actually, and Daddy overnight expressed them to us for about $40.


Someday they'll find out about the duplicates and I don't know what will happen. One of my friends has a child who found out and now he just has to sleep with both. Pook sort of already knows, but since I think he doesn't really want to know it's a bit like Santa or the Tooth Fairy and he's staying mum. We'd come home from a long vacation a bit later in the evening than we'd hoped (of course) and needed to put the boys to bed right away. Pook had played with Puppy in the car but once we got home he was no where to be seen. Finally in desperation I pulled out Puppy Duplicate. I'd never done that when one was MIA, only when one was in the laundry. Sure enough, in the morning Puppy Original was found in the art cabinet, (naturally-- a logical place I should have looked). I was so quick to get that stuffed piece of trouble hidden away that Pook saw it all in a blur. He tried to ask me and I gave him a quick "not gonna talk about it" and moved on.

Another time, I'd tossed a grimy Puppy in the laundry and put the clean Double in his bed. The next morning he says to me, "Isn't it weird? I cut the tags off Puppy one time and now they're back!" (They didn't stay on long- I got in there asap, hoping he'd forget.) So, between those two episodes, he must know. He could probably handle it, but it seemed like a slippery slope because I don't know if Bug could. But maybe they'll feel deceived when they find out. For now it's a matter of practicality. I'll hope they'll be pleasantly surprised to meet the Doubles.

This morning I pulled a clean Teddy from the dryer and took him upstairs to hide in my closet, in his usual hiding place. I passed Bug's bedroom and saw Other Teddy on his bed. I hesitated. The practical side of me said to put the clothes away and get some work done while both boys were at school. The sentimental side of me wanted to hold them both at the same time. Introduce them. "Hey Teddy, this is Teddy."

planning for my empty nest

I guess I'm going to be mothering Bug for a long time. Pook has already asked how soon he can move out, but Bug seems to want to stay. The other day he said to me, "When I'm 100 I'll get a new home. Will you still be my mom? Will I still be your baby?"


Then, another day I got, "'When will I die?"
I hope you won't die until you're a really really old man. Older than me, Daddy, Nana, Papa, Grandma or Grandad.
"Like 100? And then I can live in another state like them?"


Today he called to me from the bathroom, "I'm done!" (meaning, 'come wipe my bum') and I sighed, When are you going to start doing this yourself?
"When I'm in college I think."

candy holidays

"So, what is the next Candy Holiday, Mama?" Pook likes to ask me questions that I'm sure he knows. I'm not sure if this is just to verify his knowledge, to see if I know, or to drive me crazy. When they're little we do it all the time: What color is this? What is Daddy's real/grownup name? I quiz them on lots of things I already know. Maybe he's just doing that to me. Maybe he just wants to drive me crazy. But what the heck is a "candy holiday" anyway? Have we reclasified the holidays? Clearly some are more important to Pook than others, and I believe the reason can be deduced from the question. Perhaps I should cut down on the candy consumption to make it less of a focus on holidays. We'd barely finished Christmas candies when I got sucked in by Valentine's Day and bought them each a little heart shaped box I filled with chocolate pretzels. (Melt a Hershey's Kiss on top of a pretzel and plop an M&M on that after it starts to melt. Yum. But I digress.) Hmm. I'll play along. Candy Holidays....

(Easter is next. It comes really early this year, in March.)
"Nope! You're wrong! St. Patrick's Day comes next!"
He's thrilled to catch me in error. But I'm not wrong. I correct him.
(No, St. Patrick's Day is mostly just to wear green. There's no candy.)
"Oh yes! You do get candy for St. Patrick's Day! The Leprechaun hides chocolate coins for you to find!"
(Uh... I see. Well, I don't think he hides them at our house. It must be a school thing....)


Did I get out of that successfully?

be good

Today Bug climbed out and tossed a "love you Mama" my way before prancing off. I had forgotten to tell Pook "I love you" when I dropped him off this morning, so it was particularly poignant for me today. I hate when I forget to tell them good bye.

My father used to call, "Learn something!" to me as I left for school. I rolled my eyes. And if he'd ask at dinner what I'd learned, I couldn't come up with anything. Sorry, Dad.

For the first year and a half of Bug's preschool, I told him to "Have a good day" as I said goodbye. Then one day he caught me in my tracks and asked why I always told him to be good. Hmm? For all that time, he'd thought I was reminding him to have good behavior. Wow. I really don't want my kids to think their behavior is that high on my priority list for them. While I do, of course, want them to behave at school, I revamped my goodbyes to really tell them what I really hope for their day.

Have fun! Be good! Learn something!

my heartstrings

My heartstrings- or are they "apron strings"?- are aching. He is so independent. A huge grin on his face as he climbs out of my idling car, hefts his Kermit backpack onto his shoulders and then, up on his toes (giraffe toes), he truly prances away toward his preschool class. All by himself. He doesn't need me, his Mama, at all.

I wanted to stay to watch until he turned the corner to his room. To prolong the pain- a proud pain, but still a pain. Deep in my body from somewhere between my heart and my uterus. My eyes are filled with tears and I drive around the corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of him again. But I don't. He's gone. And I don't want my baby gone. Not yet.


This snippet about Bug was actually written October 4, 2007. From the first day of school after Labor Day, I had walked him to class. While willing to join the carpool group at dismissal, he still wanted me to bring him in. I was glad. I like peeking into the room, seeing the teacher, the kids and the art on the walls. I was still wavering about creating a blog, so it got "posted" on a little scrap of paper while I sat in the grocery parking lot crying. I kept seeing it and thinking about posting it online.

This morning he asked, "Do you miss me when I go to school?" Absolutely! I answered. And when I dropped him off, I watched him as his little blue hood bounced up and down, above and below the railing by his class. His bouncy gait is so identifying I could pick him out of a crowd quickly. He loves going to preschool and he fills my car with all his excitement when I pick him up. I'm proud that my children are so independent. I just don't want them to ever not need me.