Category Archives: Burpling Banter

elena’s new adventures

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Elena had her last day at St. Lukes last Tuesday. I was definitely a little sad when I picked her up. Lhee, one of her two main teachers there, was so sweet. She gave her lots of hugs and kisses as we were ready to depart. Of course, Elena just wondered why the heck she was being smothered, almost as if I could hear her thinking, “Dude, what’s gotten into you?? Can’t you see my mom’s here…I’ll see you tomorrow!” She has so enjoyed it there and become attached to her teachers that I knew if she had any idea she wouldn’t be back, she’d be pretty sad, too.

Getting our shoes on before we leave for the first day at St. Andrews.

It was all good though once Wednesday morning came and I was reminded how excited Ian has been to have Elena starting at “his” school (um, for like one more week). Arms were flapping as he promised us that he was going to look out for her and help show her the ropes at St. Andrews. Of course, everyone was more than welcoming and excited to have her as the four of us came in that morning. As usual these days, Ian ran into his room barely saying goodbye – as if we were embarrassing him already. (Does this really start at age 5?)

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changes, they are a comin’

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I think there are at least a few people in this world who adapt to change better than I do. Wait, scratch that. I’m sorry to say that I have no idea what the world’s population is off the top of my head, but let’s just say that if it’s 609 zillion people – there are probably 603 zillion of them who accept change better than I do. Now, that’s not to say that I’m inflexible, but I do like to stay the course, if possible. For instance, whenever we go to Muchas Gracias for dinner, I always get a cheese enchilada and chicken taco. Why? Because it’s a sure (read: safe) bet.

Believe it or not, the same goes when it comes to matters involving parenting. Stability: good. Change: often not quite as good. When Ian came along, we lived in the Washington, D.C. area where you are more likely to see a politician acting like a mature adult than you are to get a spot for your baby at a daycare. It’s commonly known there that if you have any hope of getting your child into a “decent” daycare – meaning they at least feed them at some point during the day – you had better start going on tours and getting on wait lists before you get pregnant. Wait until conceive and you’ve already missed the boat. That’s all to say that it can be a beyond-stressful process to locate a place where you a) feel comfortable leaving your child and b) can actually get a spot to park them.

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tulle skirts and painted toenails

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Jeff and I decided with both Ian and Elena that we did not want to find out their sex before they were born. While there were different reasons we chose this path for ourselves, one of my personal reasons was that I didn’t care to have all the questions, comments and stereotypes that would come along with it:

Oh, you’re having a girl! How exciting…you’ll have one of each! And now you get to buy all those cute clothes! (or insert female stereotype of your choice here) 

or, conversely

Oh, a boy! How exciting…boys have so much energy! (or insert male stereotype of your choice here)

That said, I admit that before Ian was born – I wondered sometimes that if it was a boy (which I highly suspected from the beginning, by the way), would I relate to him as well as I would a girl given that, well, I am indeed a “girl” myself? But this was also part of the reason why I didn’t want to know. Because I didn’t need that extra time to second guess how I’d be as the mother of a boy. And sure enough, when Ian was born at Virginia Hospital Center the afternoon of January 10, 2006, he wasn’t a boy. He wasn’t a girl. He was my firstborn child and he was the most wonderful thing I had ever seen.

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space ranger in training

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It all started innocently enough. I was on tap to take both Elena and Ian to daycare/school this morning. Jeff was home, so he helped load us all in the car and off we went. I had the radio tuned to NPR, which perhaps was my first mistake because there was a story on about the last flight of the space shuttle.

I recall that we were about halfway into the 10 minute drive to St. Andrews when the first question came from the back seat. Mommy? Yes. Why don’t they wear helmets in space? Well, because I guess they don’t need them. (Brilliant answer, I know.) Oh. Then, silence, except for Elena’s usual vocal inflections and exclamations of wonder at some unknown object she’s passionately pointing at out the window. Suddenly: Mommy? Yes. Does the space shuttle have a name? Yes. What is its name? Well, I believe there are two space shuttles and they both have different names: one is Atlantis, which is the one that is about to come home for the final time, and the other was Endeavour. Oh. And from Elena: Oooohhhhh….ha! So they only have two space shuttles? Why? Yes, I’m pretty sure there are only two space shuttles right now and that’s probably because they are very expensive to build and take care of, so they can’t afford to have too many of them at once.

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