Examples? You want examples? Of course you do.
When we moved to Singapore life was time bound. The rules were simple. The boys got up around 7 am, got fed, and were good until about 9:30 or 10 am. Then they went down for a nap, got up after an hour to an hour and a half, had lunch and were good until 1 or 1:30 pm. Then they would nap again until around3 pm, be up for a couple of hours, have dinner, bath and bed by 7 pm. They couldn’t feed themselves, couldn’t walk, couldn’t talk, didn’t know what a potty was and didn’t like disruptions to their schedule.
Oh, you could take them out between 7 am and 10 am, but miss the start of that nap and suffer the consequences: the whining, crying, pre-tantrum consequences. Not to mention the fallout for the rest of the day because they got off track: more whining, crying and pre-tantrums. We found out the hard way in a Pizza Hut in Plaza Singapura last May. We put them in high chairs and bibs, pulled out their bottles and baby food jars and began to attempt dinner. It was too late in the day. Less than thirty minutes later, the only thing in a five foot radius that wasn’t covered in a thin layer of milk and Gerber 3s was the inside of their stomachs. This was one of those occasions when they began to melt down and we just pulled them out before they began to affect those around us (except for the milk shower and free Gerber topping on their pizza).
Today is different. They’re down to one nap, they walk, they talk (on their terms), and they’re more flexible (in their own way). A typical day is wake up between 6 am and 7 am. This is what I call the red zone. If they sleep until 7 am all is well; if they’re up at 6 am then mommy and at least one of them (Liam) will be grumpy for at least part of the day. Mommy contains them upstairs until 7 am regardless and then they go downstairs for breakfast. Then we play or have class (Kindermusik or MyGym) or go to play group. Come home for lunch around 11 am (or fall asleep in the car if we’re tired or running late) and then nap for an hour or two. They get up around 2 pm and then dinner around 6 pm (or earlier if we’re grumpy) and then bath and bed around 7 pm. Now, bed and asleep are two different issues as mentioned in other entries.
What’s a meal like for comparison? Well, to start with, they feed themselves. They use forks and spoons (and hands). Our biggest challenge is either getting them to eat if they’re being finicky or getting them to slow down if they’re not. It reminds me of when my father used to jokingly call one of my brothers “Garbage Jeff” because of his adolescent eating habits. Jeff had puberty for an excuse. Liam’s just a bizarre combination of goat and trash compactor (I’ll let you decide which side gave him which genes).
Since he was an infant, we have joked that all food belongs to Liam. I had this realization when he was about six months old. He was laying on our floor in the den in Atlanta and I was sitting down on the couch to eat some pizza I had just heated up. Liam hated lying on the floor on his tummy and wasn’t a big fan of rolling, but he rolled onto his tummy pushed up and arched his back so he could see what I was doing. The look on his face as he watched me eat was hilarious. It seemed to say “Hey! Wait! What’s that? Wait, you’re EATING that. You have food of your own? You’ve been holding out on me.”
Today things aren’t too different. You cannot eat pizza in front of them and expect Liam to eat anything else. Liam, “Pizza, pizza. PIZZA!!!;” Graeme catching on, “I eat a pizza. Graeme eat a pizza.” Tragically this applies to anything that is triangular, so mommy’s quesadilla was branded pizza. Its self-esteem has never recovered. Another challenge with pizza (or quesadillas) is getting the boys to eat them properly. Apparently biting a hole in the middle is both challenging and entertaining. Meals are sometimes a chorus of, “Bite the pointy end.” To which Graeme uses one of his stock phrases combined with his ability to repeat anything (and yes there are funny stories on that, but I have been censored by the guilty party) “I bite a pointy end.”
The newest mealtime trick is drinking from cups without lids or straws. It’s been less than a week, but they’re actually doing quite well. Tiffany has to meter the volume. Pour a little, they drink a little. Pour a lot, it’s bath time. Funny thing, when they’re thirsty there’s not a lot of fooling around. We do have to keep them from dropping food into the cup and fishing it out again.
Other meal time fun: Liam likes to put his hand on the table and push his chair back on two legs. As his mother and I react, he yells, “NO!” at himself before we can, with a big grin on his face. Once meals are done, Tiffany has the boys clearing the table by carrying their plates, cups and bibs (one at a time) into the kitchen to our helper. Occasionally, someone gets lost on the way back to the table and ends up standing next to the large painting (Red Square, by Ford Smith) on the dining room wall. Here he (usually Graeme) waits with a devilish grin on his face until we notice. Despite previous warnings, he then pushes the lower corner of the painting as hard as he can and runs for the stairs. Why the stairs? Because he’s going on the naughty step, where he will recite, “I sorry. I sorry painting.” After correction, “I sorry mommy/daddy.” It’s a different world from last year.
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