Toddler Bribery

   

Helping to socially develop Bubs 1 has been challenging at times. Other times, it's clicked like clock work. For example, his mom and I are helping him learn how to sit at the dinner table - and stay in his seat. We know that a typical three-year-old doesn't have the ability to stay stationary for too long on his own, so we bribe him. Bribery is such a negative term, so let's say "reward" instead. Bribery, I mean a reward system, starts early and never ends. Quid pro quo.

During dinner, we've instituted the "five-minute-(inject reward here)" game. Over the past couple of evenings, we have been bribing (uh uhm, rewarding) Bubs 1 with these little, bite-sized fruit snacks. The Bubs normally requests the "purpool one pwease." By using a timer that offers the time remaining in red, the bubs can simply visualize (and begin to internalize) how long five minutes lasts (a very long time for a 3-year-old). In order to claim his fruit snack, Bubs 1 has to stay in his seat for the full five-minutes - and he does. He is an involved player, because he likes the reward. Sometimes he forgets (since he's only three) and climbs down from his chair until we remind him that he'll lose his reward. This reminder gets him quickly scrambling to get back into his seat.

Today, it's "purpool" fruit snacks. Tomorrow, it's going to be the keys to the car.

Older Sibling Regression

 We were warned of the incoming regressive behavior that Bubs 1 was going to display after Bubs 2 arrived, but we didn't realize the extent of how far Bubs 1 is willing to take it. We are receiving word that Bubs 1 is being "aggressive" with his classmates at his preschool. He has also been showing some of this aggression at home. Aggression that I look forward to him ditching soon - very soon.

But that's not all.

Bubs 1 also is displaying a sweet side of his regressive behavior... like commandeering his little brother's crib. To be fair, this crib did use to be the Bubs 1's sleeping area. However, it is no longer his primary bedstead.

In an attempt to show Bubs 1 that we are "listening" to him, we decided to let him take his nap in the crib today. He said, "I want to lay in (Bubs 2)'s crib." So he did. Not only that, but he found Bubs 2's binky (a newborn binky) and stuck it in his mouth. To me, his sticking that binky in his mouth was the ultimate show in marking one's territory. This behavior is just one step higher than urinating in the corner of the crib.

I happened to be watching when he woke. He picked his head up and wearily surveyed his surroundings, smirked, and layed his head back down in triumph!

No Artificial Teets

The title is "risky," but it's what Westerly Hospital told us, or encouraged us, to avoid when attempting to soothe a crying, just-born Bubs 2. Our first night with the Bubs 2 was a sleepless one, as was the second, third, fourth and so on. Last night, I gave in and gave an artificial teet to Bubs 2. Mom needed some sleep, so the Bubs 2 and I headed downstairs where I stuck the pacifier in his mouth... I then waited for him to fall asleep.

(fast forward 2 hours later)... still waiting...

At least the binky was keeping him from crying temporarily. He was having difficulties keeping it in his mouth. I thought he had a good handle on it. He was chewing away with rhythm and this led me to attempt getting some rest on the couch. However, the binky would fall from his mouth every time and he'd cry. It was a vicious cycle for those couple hours.

Westerly hospital said that an artificial teet can create what's called "nipple confusion." Such a name makes me think of some funny comments, but I'll hold my tongue. Anyway, I don't think that Bubs 2 is experiencing nipple confusion today. He seems to know who's nipple belongs to who. This is the only pic I can find that has Bubs 2 sucking on a binky. This was taken on day two of his life... just before the nurse spotted it in his mouth and lectured us.

Mom and me nodded and went with it, but I did tell our righteous nurse that our first Bub was given a binky from the nursery at UCLA hospital and he didn't experience any nipple confusion. This didn't go over well with the nurse. She responded, "Well, they're not baby friendly." It took me a few hours to realize that this nurse was making reference to a non-profit initiative (http://www.babyfriendlyusa.org), which is a United Nations - global initiative to encourage breastfeeding. I can respect this because the movement seems to reestablish infant nourishment with the mother - and away from the encroaching corporations selling formula, etc.

However, I wouldn't say that UCLA hospital wasn't (isn't) "baby friendly," but I guess there are just simply a lot more artificial teets in southern California.

The Newer Bubs

 Bubs II arrived to us a couple days ago. He entered this world in an east coast hospital, unlike his brother who was born on the west coast. Their deliveries were as different as night and day. Bubs ll's brother, the first Bubs, arrived inside a dimly lit hospital birthing room with soothing music, a midwife and nurses waiting and coaching his mom patiently. I remember a comfortable environment inside the birthing room. There were no meds, no IV, no doctors and thankfully no pain present for the Bub's mom. Using Hypnobirthing techniques, mom was able to "breathe" him down the birth canal. She played an active role in the first Bub's birth.

By contrast, the Bubs ll was a breech baby and our new east coast hospital didn't/doesn't naturally deliver breech babies. Mom was scheduled for an "elected" surgery. Comparatively, the Bubs ll arrived in a very bright room with sounds of vacuums and suction echoing throughout. Mom said she felt like she was on a lift inside a auto mechanic's garage. There were no tranquil sounds waving through this room. Instead of coaching mom, the dr's and nurses held their own conversations. From an observational position, I couldn't identify who the main character of this room was, but I knew it was supposed to be mom. Only the anesthesiologist spoke with mom and he basically was telling her what the dr's were going to do next. An almost scripted process and opposite from anything natural.

 Mom, a.k.a. "the patient" was essentially removed from this birth and the recovery time is tripled. This delivery, i.e. surgery, made me realize how authentic and meaningful the first bub's delivery was.

Why is all this important? I think it's easy to miss, because the mainstream process of childbirth has been successfully relocated inside the medical industry. Don't get me wrong, I understand that there are higher levels of risk that accompany a natural breech birth and medical intervention can help dramatically reduce that risk. However, the medical industry does bring its own risks too. I now understand the anti-medical establishment side in the ongoing debate between the natural birth proponents' wishes to return power back to the mom's as they fight the medical establishment from claiming a non-medical procedure as their domain.

Bubs ll is safely with us today and his big brother loves him. The first bubs identifies the recently erected crib, inside our house, as "(bubs ll's) crib." He knows his new little brother is going to live at our house, which the first bubs refers to as the "blue house." In fact, while getting ready to leave a visit at the hospital to see Bubs ll, the first bubs says, "Come on (bubs ll), let's go to the blue house."

He said it as if they've been brothers for many years rather than just a couple days.

The Bus Stop

 The Bubs has to be outside and ready to board his school bus at 8:30am. He knows to get ready and meet Mr Roland (bus driver) each morning. The Bubs mom and I are amazed that this little guy (at 3 years old) looks forward (as much as he does) to getting on the bus. He's all smiles when the yellow coach rolls down the hill towards the bus stop. He's a social creature who is fast absorbing his surrounding knowledge.

Here's a picture (bottom, left) of the Bubs, and the Bubs' mom and me, all waiting for Mr Roland to arrive at the Bubs' bus stop last week. We had fun hanging out and anticipating the big yellow bus' arrival. It's a good time for us to tell the Bubs what he's going to expect for the day, i.e. Mr Roland is coming to pick you up and then you're going to go to school and Ms Crocker's room, etc.). Having a plan for the day makes the day more meaningful.

The other picture (top, right) is of my bus stop when I was a kid. This is where I began my relationship with school - on the corners of Highland Lakes and Canadawa roads. Unlike the Bubs, I didn't start boarding a school bus until I was 5 years old. Just as the research suggests, kids who attend pre-school exhibit greater academic benefits later on in their academic careers. I "missed the bus" on attending pre-school (pun intended). My grandmother said that I was a "late bloomer" (just as many of the males in my family were), but I think it had more to do with me having less-access to educational resources early in life (combined with an unstable family later on). Perhaps even some public-school-tracking played a small part in there too. At the end of the day, the Bubs' mom and I are already offering more educational access for the little guy (and his soon-to-be-brother too!).

Since family stability and access to resources are available to the Bubs, we're planning on a meaningful academic experience for him... and this is what it looks like.

The Piano Lesson Money

 Is he musically inclined? We'll have to see. So far, he's showing some interest beyond driving his Matchbox cars and Thomas trains over the keys. The Bubs actually sat down with his cousin, Grace, and tickled the ivories. Or, should I say "plastics," since it was an organ.

This is not just any organ either. It is a Hammond Model T-582 and it belonged to the Bub's great grandma C. It now sits inside the Bub's uncle's home and blends into the background. It no longer sits in the living room at 1 Norfolk Drive, Toms River, NJ where it was the center of xmas singing every holiday season. The Bub's great grandfather played each year. He loved to sing too. Nobody plays it anymore. Now it has started the process of being passed along to various family member's homes. It started off at the Bub's aunt's home and now it resides at his uncle's. Who's next on the list? Good question. Ebay? Don't be silly - it's a family heirloom. It's priceless (but it looks like it could fetch anywhere between $100 to $300 on Craigslist). ;)

Maybe it will find a home in the Bub's house one day? Maybe he'll have a piano instead? Either will be a benefit since his mom and I are hopeful that he'll take lessons. His mom took lessons and can play, but it's been a while. I took a few lessons too, but there's a story attached (of course).

I was taking lessons in Highland Lakes, NJ as a kid. My mother used to drop me off nearby beach #7, where I would take lessons at my piano teacher's house. My teacher had a pretty nice piano in her living room. I remember her hosting a piano recital at her home one night. She invited all her students' families. I remember being nervous as I hung out with the other students in the family room listening to our fellow student play for all the parents (and the teacher). I remember all of us wincing each time one of us struck the wrong key. It was fun. However, all that ended the day that I was dropped off for a lesson and my teacher was not at her home.

My mother had already driven off, so I had to walk back to my house. Somewhere between my teacher's house and my house, I lost the $7 piano lesson money. My mom was angry. That mistake apparently ended my piano lessons. Sad, but true. I can still remember that walk home. I still think I can remember where I may have lost the cash. I doubt it's still there - 30 years later. Perhaps this $7 could have cost me a life as a concert pianist?  Doubtful.

The Bub's cousin, Grace, is musically talented. She plays a host of instruments and even showed the Bubs a few notes on the keyboard this day. Maybe we can ask Grace to give VJ lessons when he's older? Maybe he'll be a concert pianist? Maybe Grace will be a concert pianist?

Just in case, I'll be sure to electronically deposit any piano-lesson money DIRECTLY into Grace's account 

The Trip and the Chair(s)

We rested a spell after lunch in Monterey, VA (on our way to Snowshoe Mountain, WV). We found a big old porch with a few rocking chairs to kick back on while the Bubs finished his ice cream cone. The porch belonged to the Highland Inn, established in 1904 (a.k.a. Hotel Monterey).

The Bubs enjoyed hanging out with his cousin, Gavin, during the trip. Gavin was quick with his iPhone, for playing the Youtube videos on demand, when the Bubs was not able to handle his time strapped in a car seat. We kept the driving distances under  4 to 5 hours each day and made multiple stops as well. No two-year old should have to endure such torture and no parent should have to endure the two-year-old's lack of endurance.

I remember my childhood in the car on many, many road trips with my mother. When our home dwindled down to just the two of us, she would take me on many trips with her. We took trips to far away friends homes and we went on many trips to my grandmother's home. We also drove to the meeting point where my parents exchanged me for weekend visits with the other. The passenger seat became my bed on many trips, as well as my dining room chair and my living room rocking chair. Driving long distances became part of my DNA.

When my wife asked me to if she could take over the driving (about 30 minutes before we stopped for lunch in Monterey), I resisted. However, there was really no debating the issue since we were driving through windy mountain roads and her pregnancy was making her car sick. She needed to take over the wheel as we navigated through the Shenandoah Mountains to keep her stomach at bay. She drove us to Monterey.

The hotel's porch was old, but solid. The rocking chairs didn't squeak either. I enjoyed watching the Bubs try out all the chairs on the porch. There must have been 5 or 6 rocking chairs, a chaise lounge and a few bench seats. The breeze felt nice. I noticed the Bubs finished his ice cream, because he was dipping his fingers into the decimated cone and into the melted ice cream remains. It was time to get back on the road and finish our last leg to Snowshoe Mountain.

To my surprise, my wife again took control of the driver's seat. I said nothing and sat down in the passenger seat - just like 30 years earlier.