Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Big Bird Goes to Olympia.

The drive to Olympia from Athens takes around four hours along a harrowing one-and-a-half lane highway. To pass you have to drive down the center and hope that no one is doing the same coming the other direction. Drivers heading back towards Athens were extremely generous in signaling with both headlights any time a police speed check was up ahead for our lane. I do not think I have ever noticed a police check for cars driving in the direction opposite me. Our rented Hyundai started vibrating at speeds over 120 km, so we spent more time driving in the half lane on the right hand side than speeding past down the center; still I appreciated their effort.

The little gnome's current favorite is a plastic figurine of Big Bird made somewhere in Germany and purchased by Peter somewhere in Athens. Big's current status likely has to do with the gem that is Follow That Bird, one of the first children's movies. One of my favorite scenes is this one in which Waylan Jennings gives Big a lift:



So it was that Big Bird came with us on this road trip in search of some objects for my dissertation. As we approached the town of Olympia we were whooping it up to keep the now-awake little gnome happy during our final stretch in the car. As we approached the main street filled with tchotchke shops and turned up the hill in search of our hotel, Soren extended Big towards the window and exclaimed

Big Bird Going to Olympia!

Monday, April 27, 2009

Similes are for the literal.

While tucking his head against my leg to hide from the waitress smiling at him:

Mama: Are you hiding?

Little Gnome: Yes. Nervous. Like the tortoise.

M: Soren is a tortoise.

LG: Soren not a tortoise. Soren a little boy!

Thursday, April 23, 2009

The Long Walk Home

The little gnome wants to go home (to the house where we are living in La Pointe). He is tired of this glorified studio in Athens and he wants his pink scooter (which does not actually belong to him).

He attempted to leave the apartment, but could not quite manage to unlock the door.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

How to Tell the Boys From the Girls.

Little Gnome: Mama have a big wiener?

Mama: No, I do not have a wiener.

LG: Not have a big wiener.

M: No wiener.

LG: Papa have a wiener.

M: Yes, Papa has a wiener.

LG: Papa have a BIG wiener!

National Museum

I took the little gnome to the National Archaeological Musem this morning. I had to bribe him with a bit of choco to get out the door, but once underway he was into it. The National Museum is completely un-handicapped friendly and as a person with a large stroller I count as handicapped. We spent a while looking around for the supposed handicapped entrance (there is a sign), but it did not appear so I took the little gnome out of his poussette and we climbed up the many marble stairs together, he holding Baby Max and I dragging the stroller behind us.

I put him back in at the top. I usually do not like to keep him in the stroller for too long, especially not once we have reached a destination, but I wanted to take some pictures while we were there and it seemed like the best plan. I topped him off with another bit of chocolate to sweeten the deal. If there is one thing that I learned from my parents about traveling with kids it is Never Hesitate to Bribe Them. Soren really likes sculpture, so he was pretty happy for a while and kept calling out Look, Baby Max an extending his doll towards a particular image. He was ready to leave before I was though, but I managed to extend things by happening upon a large horse sculpture or two. Eventually we adjourned to the back garden cafe where we ate spanikopita and he ran around like a madman. The guards did not mind him running through the garden, but they specifically told me that while he was allowed, I was not.

Cute highlights included when he hugged the sculpture of an baby cupid and when he tried to feed the sculpture of a lion a piece of his spanikopita. After he'd gotten enough running in I tried to buy him a toy at the museum shop (extra bribe for good behavior), but the gift shop of the National Archaological Museum is very sparse and contains little of interest to a two-year old. Apparently their marketing team needs a refresher course on how to make money off of tourists. We managed to find our way home using a much less-trafficked back route that did not feel as though we were inhaling the exhaust of a thousand vehicles with every breath (yes, everyone is back from the holiday).

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Spinning #3


Spinning #3
Originally uploaded by jmss.

Peter has been playing with Soren in the gardens behind the American School of Classical Studies while I use the library. They even have a playground set up at the base of some very lush gardens.

This is the little gnome's favorite way to spin.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

And it's a Treehouse.

We are staying in a small apartment for the next two weeks. There are not too many little hideaways for the little gnome, except for a fairly dirty closet. He has taken to climbing up into his stroller, which is higher off of the ground than most strollers so this actually involves climbing. When he is sitting in the stroller we have gotten the impression that he feels himself to be separate from us, autonomous, and for the moment, free. Sometimes he brings Baby Max to sit next to him up there.

A few weeks ago we went on a long walk with our neighbors through fields and woods. We tried to put the little gnome in the Ergo on our backs and he refused, demanding his stroller. I was surprised, even a little sad, because he used to love being carried in the pack and I have seen a lot of bigger kids on people's backs in the ergo. Sometimes he refuses to get into the stroller, but that is usually when we are actually trying to get somewhere or to buy groceries. He still asks to be carried, but in arms, not in a pouch. I guess he is starting to want his own little spaces some of the time.

A Funny Kind of Love.

A father at the playground is running around happily with his son, who is a bit older than the little gnome. They slide and throw balls and romp around and seem so happy in each other's company. At some point the father lights up a cigarette, which he smokes in the middle of the playground. His son, running through an exhaled cloud, begins to cough. After a minute of this the father makes the slightest move with his hand to hold the cigarette a few inches farther away. The coughing and romping continue. At some point the little boy pushes his ball through a hole in the fence. The father stamps out his cigarette leaving the butt on the playground as he jogs off to fetch the ball. A few minutes later he loads his son into the stroller. As they set off together the clear pouch of the stroller reveals two bottles of water and two packs of cigarettes.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Quickie.

1. The little gnome had a grand birthday, although now that both cameras are out of commission you will have to take my word for it. Details later.

2. While dropping Calliope off at the dog shaman's farm I was shocked by the electric fence surrounding the horses. For various reasons this is potentially more worrisome for me than it would normally be.

3. We traveled all day yesterday by car/train/plane/taxi and the little gnome was fabulous, thanks in part to extended battery power and Tchoupi & Doudou. We are now in the market for a portable dvd player for plane rides future.

4. It is Good Friday again. This Easter weekend we will not be making the mistake that we made last Easter weekend and will be stockpiling the groceries this afternoon so as not to run out of food before Tuesday.

5. We confirmed within a few minutes that the Greeks' boundless goodwill towards children does not end with infancy. Soren scored a Kinder egg from the enthusiastic clerk at the grocery store minutes into our arrival. He thanked her in french. I sense some confusion on the horizon.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Late Afternoon in La Pointe

We took a walk to the neighboring village to pick up some milk for the little gnome's birthday cake, the one that I am about to start making. He packed a set of balls--one large, one medium, and one small--in to a woven shopping basket with rope handles. He clutched the bag in front of him so that to people walking towards us it might have looked as if I were pushing a large basket in a stroller. After we'd gotten the milk we dumped out the balls along the bank of the Maine river and he got down to throw them around. This afternoon Peter had taught him how to dribble, but a grassy bank is not the best surface for such skills. We settled for kicking. At some point Medium Ball made the inevitable jump into the river itself, but the winds were kind and blew it back to the bank, which I was able to climb down in order to retrieve it. Farther along the path towards home dandelions have burst across the grass in the past week. The little gnome devoted quite a bit of his energy to beheading the lot. He was no match for that fecund weed. Minutes after returning home, he is asleep.

Monday, April 13, 2009

An Unexpected Benefit of Co-sleeping.

The other night I had some very scary and very violent nightmares of the sort that make you want to check every member of your sleeping household for a pulse. Luckily for me all four of us were already in the same bed, so I did not even need to get up. Sure enough, the little gnome, Calliope and Peter were still alive. Well, I already knew Peter was because of the snoring...

I guess this might compensate for a few of the right hooks, kicks and cases of mistaken identity.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Hunt.


Basket peek
Originally uploaded by jmss.

Soren & Lucy had an early Easter egg hunt together this morning.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Lucy visits!


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

I have not been writing much lately in part because after the grim winter months we finally have visitors aplenty. For the past few days Lovely London Lucy and her parents have been visiting. I am already dreading the tears that will be shed when she leaves.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Happy Birthday Uncle Dave!


Happy Birthday Uncle Dave!
Originally uploaded by jmss
You've made it this far, and someone wants to congratulate you!

Tweet, tweet, tweet...

As we got into the car to go to Totspot (again S. was the only kid!) some birds were tweeting about in the tree under which we had parked. The little gnome turned to me and said with much conviction:

Birds talking to Soren!

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

The Wallaby Pouch.


(Image via Reindeer Express)

I recently had a conversation with a french woman who is a gynecologist. She does not deliver babies, but she provides prenatal care through the sixth month (the OB system is organized differently in France than in the US). I asked her, because I have often been curious but never found any real information on the topic, how and if breastfeeding during pregnancy effects either the developing baby or the nursing toddler. Because nursing through a pregnancy is less practiced in the cultures that produce many of the studies on child development there does not seem to be much publicly available information other than anecdote (of which there is a fair amount).

In particular I do not understand the effects of hormonal changes present in the pregnant woman's body being passed on to the toddler through the milk. As I understand it estrogen levels soar during pregnancy and are reduced post-partum and even suppressed below normal levels during breastfeeding so as not to pass on undo estrogen to small babies. This is why many women experience a lot of dryness post-partum. I never needed to moisturize before nursing. Now the tips of my fingers are so dry they are rough. Does suddenly receiving renewed levels of estrogen harm the toddler, or do these levels remain suppressed, in which case does that harm the developing baby?

In any case, when I posed this question to the good doctor, her response was "I really have no idea, that must be an American thing."

I explained that it was not particularly. She then asked me why a person would want to continue nursing a toddler while pregnant with an infant and went on to describe why for her that would not be an appropriate choice:

The mother can only share her body with an infant for so long. The goal of the parent is to encourage the autonomy of the child.

My french is not so good on the fly that I did adequate justice to the theory that children who are allowed to self-wean achieve their autonomy with greater confidence (a position with which I do not fully agree, but the logic of which I can understand). Our conversation was pleasant, although it did not provide any of the scientific answers for which I am looking. She seemed to actually want to understand why a person would make such a choice, despite being very firm in her belief that such a choice was not in the best interest of mother and child.

Later that day the little gnome and I were with Pete (our British friend who is visiting) at the Wallaby park. For the past few weeks we have been checking up on a little baby wallaby growing inside his mother's pouch. Last time we were there his little white head was poking out of the pouch. On this day he actually came all of the way out of the pouch and was climbing around his mama who was reclining on the grass. He looked like he was kissing her. His hind legs are enormous and not fully stable. He did not stray from his mother's side, but he did frolic about around her. She rose up on her hind legs at one point and we could see the round opening of her pouch, sort of like a bucket covered in fur and attached to her front.

After watching for a while with his face pressed against the gate the little gnome starting kicking the fence and the sudden sound startled the little Wallaby. Within moments he had jumped back into the pouch head first so that only the white foot of one of his gangly hind legs poked out of the opening. I asked the little gnome to stop scaring the baby Wallaby with the noises.

We waited for a while, but the little guy did not even poke his head out again. Only that small white foot remained visible at the opening of his mother's pouch.