Fishy, fishy

Last night (or more precisely, early this morning), I realized that I had totally neglected preparing invitations for Matthew’s little party on Monday. As reminders are given out on Fridays before the children are let out for the weekend, it would have really been best to include a party reminder in everyone’s envelope.

It would be  shame to do this wrong, as I’ve already prepared the details for everything else: the theme, the decor, the food, the games, the special surprise, the loot.

The invitations? Oh no!

Drawing would have been a bad idea. Designing on the computer felt wrong — everything for this party is to be handmade or low cost or recycled.

So I logged online and looked for inspiration, walked around, thought a bat, all in the effort of not ending up as the deadbeat mom who forgot to send out invitations to her kid’s own birthday party.

The theme is ocean creatures. I looked at cakes, nurseries, crafts projects. And it hit me… fish origami! Not that I knew anything about paper folding beyond a making paper boats. But that was what the internet was for.

Voila! I learned, I tore old magazines, and I made 12 little fishies.

I tucked a little note in the folds. And straightened out the tails as much as I could.

Not bad, if I say so myself.

We’re off to a good start. Monday, we see the rest of the details come together.

Countdown wishes

We’re counting down to the 7th.

He’s turning 4 on that day. We are turning 4 that day.

It’s exciting because before now, I doubt he’s had any real grasp on how personally special a birthday is.

1, 2, 3

Last weekend, at a look-see in the toy store, there was a commotion. A toy was spotted, coveted. It was a Play Doh kitchen. Perfect, really, considering his current obsession with clay and his ongoing love for play cooking.

But it was too soon, too early. “You can have it for your birthday,” we told him, trying to teach him a lesson in patience and restraint. The truth it, is is the parents who need to learn those lessons and to not be overwhelmed and heartbroken when the tears fall and the protests get louder.

Eventually, he let us lead him out. We had dinner. Then another urge to go back to the store.

But this time, he said, “We won’t buy it until November 7!”

That’s clear.

In the days that follow, we talked about birthday wishes as I try to pick his brain to discover other things that he likes (Santa’s going to need to have an idea soon too):

More trains (though I say he’s had enough)

Painting and art

Tools

Spiderman

Fishing pole

Instrument

Camera

Lego

Sandbox

Cooking stuff

I bet if he could read this, he’d even add more. But for now, we’ve two days to go and a couple of wishes to fulfill.

 

Who do you want to be?

When did we lose the audacity to be

an artist

a chef

a builder

a worker

an astronaut

a hero

a robot ?

My son declared to be all of that today. His sure declaration of his many possibilities is a sure questioning of our self-imposed boundaries.

This is the wisdom of a little child — so pure, so unchallenged, so open. Surely, it was ours too once? In all probability it’s still there somewhere, underneath the years and layers that come with “growing up”.

Time to start digging.

Getting back

It’s going to be a while before I get to keep things updated here.

The calamity that we have undergone through as a country, with the killer typhoons and flooding, have hit us on a personal note too.

While we are slowly trying to get back to normal, we are understanding that it is a slow process: understanding the losses we have incurred, the shock of being flooded so quickly and suddenly, and moving over the hump that is the sad event of being in the middle of something tragic out of your hands.

Matthew went back to school when classes resumed last week. I firmly believed that he needed to be in a place that is safe, followed a routine, and reminded him of happy things when our home is still trying to get back to that place.

That first day, I learned that the children were made to draw their feelings about the typhoon. He drew this.

Today, I am glad to say that he announced that he is happy to be home again. We’re getting there.

The enormous find

After our mama-and-Matthew lunch date yesterday, we walked over to the bookstore where I happily discovered a big sale!

Initially, we skipped the sale bins as the order of the day was to find a coloring or activity book. But the signs called loudly, and we were soon hovering around the 40% off bin.

To my delight, I found a Roald Dahl book: “The Enormous Crocodile”.

Demands to read right there had to be pacified, and after picking up a few extra items (some super cheap Enid Blytons included), we went home.

We read the book on the couch, but not without my initial apprehensions. First, it had a lot of text per page. I was told that children Matthew’s age need to be read books where the words matched actions on the page exactly. But we read on, and Matthew was attentive and riveted. He was a little shocked at the nastiness of the crocodile, had a little fear about the plot (I believe there’s little difference, if any, between reality and fantasy at this point), but in the end he loved it.

He’s asking for it all the time. Which is good, except when I feel like a hoarse narrator.

At times like that, it’s good to find videos to stand in momentarily.

And soon, I believe we’ll be starting our new Dahl collection.

School surprises

Picking up Matthew from school yesterday, we were told to look for him in the office, instead of at the playground where he’d usually be engrossed digging or transporting sand.

We found him with his teacher:  eyes bloodshot, skin flushed, and a towel held to the lips. A playground accident happened earlier, a push resulted in a fall and a little bloodied lip. It was bound to happen, I know, but the child was obviously upset. His teacher recounted what happened. Everything was fine — it seemed like a normal thing to expect at least once amongst children playing.

What I didn’t expect were several other revelations:

* an attempt at writing and spelling

(and check out the detail on his “dnosor”)

* a readiness to learn reading. Teacher said that Matthew’s mastered his letters and so they are starting soon with lessons on reading consonants. I can’t wait for the moment he realizes how letters make words, and how words make sentences! I swear, there will be an endless supply of books!

* a clamor for more homework. Yes, I am told that he exclaimed, “I want more homework!”

Almost three months since we started school. What a ride it’s been, indeed.

Refreshed

After being invaded by toys, crayons, clay, piles of paper, and other unidentifiable objects, I decided to reclaim my space. I needed to freshen the room up and own it again.

I changed my view, hung paper lanterns, and chose light-colored drapes. Lilac and cream feels soothing and girly at the same time.

This morning, I saw the sun peeked in through my window. The trees nodded hello too.

This feels just about right.

Cozying up

Matthew’s room began as a blue sea of space.

Almost bare with only boxes after moving in

I had my pegs for it when I selected the paint color, but quickly, somehow, decorating direction changed. It took some time — almost a year — and now it’s come together beautifully.

It began with a bargain find to address the overflow of things that are expected when children are around. Shelves took care of sorting toys and books into little cubbies.

Baskets on the floor

Shelves for (almost) everything

The four shelves cost me a little less that two thousand pesos — a real steal, I tell you. I was ecstatic. And for a while, the space really worked so well. It served its purpose as a play area. And then, I realized that the reading had declined.

It usually took a lot of hopping and stepping over strewn toys on the mat to get to the books. And for my little booklover, it wasn’t worth the hassle at times.

I thought, then, a reading nook was in order.

So last week, I pushed an extra shelf into a corner. Pushed the bed to create a gap, and placed his unused, outgrown crib mattress on top of some extra rubber mats. Moved the books, his CD player (for his music), and pillows.  Voila.

The beginnings of the nook

He slept there that night.

I hung lamps the next day: a moon and a star that were recently passed on to him. The wall, I’ve decided will display images of his favorite books. We’ve started with “Where the Wild Things Are” (naturally) and “Goodnight, Moon”.

What I’m proud about this most of all is how he feels real ownership of his room now. He knows it is his and what he can do with it — the zoning works wonders. We’re shopping for more lanterns to add to his play area and will be on the hunt for a big mirror he can use to observe his own antics. And so, this is only part 1; I can’t wait to see the end result.