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2004-01-05

Hello! And happy new year.

Had a nice couple of weeks (mostly) off there. I know I keep saying this, but it keeps being true: Clay is becoming increasingly fun to spend time with. The latest development is that he loves being out and about. One of his most frequent words is "lollow" (rhymes with "follow"); he uses it to refer to various condiments (ketchup, mustard, maple syrup) and also to mean "other" or "another." As in, "lollow du" (other shoe). Anyway, his recent battle cry is "lollow dore," which means another store. He always wants to go to another store. Also, lately, as we turn onto the various roads leading to our house, he gives a very impassioned "No home! No home!" It really kinda breaks your heart. Luckily he seems to cope fairly well with actually being home, but we find ourselves extending our outings when possible.

Yesterday he and I visited a friend and her baby. As we were leaving, I asked if he wanted to go home or to lollow store. He chose the latter, so we went to Whole Foods to pick up a couple of items. I got him a snack and we sat at the sidewalk cafe as he ate it and he chatted up various passersby ("Hi!"). We got in the car and I thought I'd press my luck by taking him to the library (AKA lollow store) and he handled that famously.

Until recently, I would go to great lengths to avoid running errands with him. The getting in and out of the car, everything, just made it such a hassle. I don't know what's changed--maybe he just understands better what's going on, but it's all a pleasure lately. He holds my hand fairly reliably--it's very sweet.

At home, however, I've started giving Clay the occasional mini time out. Nothing shaming or isolating, but there are a few transgressions--primarily pulling one of the dogs' tails or pulling my hair--that, if he continues after being told to stop, provoke action. I pick him up and carry him to the bottom of our staircase and sit him on my lap facing away from me. I pin his arms to his side for maybe 30 seconds (he hates being confined, as I do, and generally struggles during this part) and say "We don't pull hair" (or whatever). I try to wait for him to calm down and then ask if he's ready to be sweet and gentle. He says yes and then we hug and I say I love him or something like that. So far it's working fairly well. Of course, now that I've writtten this, it will probably lose its effectiveness.

+

He turned two on the 29th. The three of us had a nice normal day together and planned to go out to dinner after his afternoon nap. I found myself sliding into the abyss a bit, feeling kind of sad and isolated, the three of us. This a recurring thing for me, this sense of isolation. Feeling that we should be more connected, that I would like for us to be more connected, to others. It's not that we don't have any friends; we certainly could've scraped together a little birthday party for him had it been a priority. Still, I was kind of feeling sorry for myself and our tiny family.

But then we went out, to a burger place that Clay really likes, and it was actually really nice. We'd brought a candle in the shape of a "2" and ordered a brownie to put it on. A guy announced over the PA that there was a special guest named Clay celebrating his second birthday and people clapped. A burly biker guy came by our table on his way out and wished Clay well.

As we were leaving, B saw a vending machine selling enormous superballs and decided to buy one. Clay clutched it and immediately started saying "lollow ball" over and over. And over. It really was endless. As we drove home, B gave him a brief lecture about the fact that if you spend all your energy thinking about another ball, you're unable to enjoy the ball you have.

The significance was not lost one me. For a couple of hours earlier I was with my loving, healthy family, utterly preoccupied with the fact that we lack a warm, local group of extended family and friends with whom to share the occasion. I might as well have been chanting "lollow ball, lollow ball."

The fact that Clay (and B and I) are essentially healthy is particularly salient to me these days. I'm part of this mailing list of mothers and there's one woman I find myself relating to frequently; her family always interests me. One of her sons is a month younger than Clay and, based on anecdotes and photos--he is a beautiful child--has always enchanted me. Well, a week before Christmas, this little boy was diagnosed with cancer. If you pray, perhaps you could include a little boy with the initials E.D.

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