7/5/13 - "The Trouble of Being Roman"
Blogger's Note: I love my job. I really do. But one of the biggest "con's" of working in the entertainment industry is that when everyone else is on holiday, we're working overtime. Holidays are the busiest time of the year for casinos. My work schedule was a little different this week to cover the increase (and much appreciated) business, thus the delay in posting my blog this week.
Also, having time to sit at my desktop and ponder and write a blog was much easier circa 2013 P.A. (that's pre-Amelia). There's not much time to relax these days. Even when Amelia is sleeping or contentedly swinging, then we feel a desire to fill this precious time slot with some "Roman"-time. I don't think he's feeling left out, as was our 2013 P.A. concerns; but, I'm putting a little effort into keeping it that way.
And, spending all this extra time with Roman (as Joanna seems to be the primary care-giver for a breast-feeding infant girl), has given me an insight on the gears that grind in the mind of our three-year-old adventurer. I'll share a few of these discoveries this week and explain exactly what is the trouble of being Roman...
Roman just recently learned his first negative phrase. It's "I don't want to." And, actually, it comes out with an extra syllable somewhere that is hard to place but sounds a bit like "i don't wah-wahn to!" I'm not sure where he got this phrase, but it's a bit disheartening to hear this fun-loving, carefree sponge of life hiccup a piece of trash from our mad world. Inevitable as it was, I would choose to keep him shrouded in those twinkle, twinkle good dreams.
He loves being outside (or as he calls it in Polish: napoli). But he doesn't much care for being outside alone, with us watching from the kitchen window. We have a train track that runs a couple of blocks from our house. When a freight trains rolls through, they blow their whistle as they pass over Pines Road. The sound frightens my son. If I'm outside with him, he nervously looks at me and proclaims, "train!" I smile and try to appear light-hearted trying to affirm the harmlessness of the sound. If he does happen to be outside alone when the train whistle sounds, he runs to the back door and tries to get in. Our back door has one of those push-button handles that he hasn't quite mastered, so he starts banging and yelling. One of us lets him in; I like to maintain that trust that he has for us.
He had his first Independence Day experience, and it wasn't a good one. We got invited to a really cool 4th of July party complete with all the Americana a man could wish for: good barbecue, cold beer, and (best of all) awesome fireworks. We got to enjoy the first two before the fireworks started, and we discovered rather resolutely that our son doesn't like fireworks (or rather the report that inevitably follows). So, we climbed into the van and tried to watch the show from there which worked for a while; but, when I tried to crack the windows because it was getting stuffy, he jumped into my arms screaming "it's coming! it's coming!" So, we left. And that's ok, because we'll just try again next year.
He loves bike riding with me (which is great because I like that, too). We run what I call the Paducah Loop. We head up Park Avenue to the start of the Greenway Trail, to Noble Park, to the new floodwall trail, to downtown, and back up Jefferson Street until we find our way back home. Downtown, we always stop for a restroom break, and it's there he has a very important decision to make. Do we go to Kirchhoff's Bakery for a cookie or do we hit the Ice Cream Parlor for an ice cream cone? We ride to the foot of Broadway and slowly pedal along the Ohio River where we see ducks and boats and other children. We come back out on Kentucky Avenue to see the train there, and sometimes go to the library or the water fountain there, and then we finally head back over to Jefferson Street for the final leg.
Blogger's Note: I love my job. I really do. But one of the biggest "con's" of working in the entertainment industry is that when everyone else is on holiday, we're working overtime. Holidays are the busiest time of the year for casinos. My work schedule was a little different this week to cover the increase (and much appreciated) business, thus the delay in posting my blog this week.
Also, having time to sit at my desktop and ponder and write a blog was much easier circa 2013 P.A. (that's pre-Amelia). There's not much time to relax these days. Even when Amelia is sleeping or contentedly swinging, then we feel a desire to fill this precious time slot with some "Roman"-time. I don't think he's feeling left out, as was our 2013 P.A. concerns; but, I'm putting a little effort into keeping it that way.
And, spending all this extra time with Roman (as Joanna seems to be the primary care-giver for a breast-feeding infant girl), has given me an insight on the gears that grind in the mind of our three-year-old adventurer. I'll share a few of these discoveries this week and explain exactly what is the trouble of being Roman...
Roman just recently learned his first negative phrase. It's "I don't want to." And, actually, it comes out with an extra syllable somewhere that is hard to place but sounds a bit like "i don't wah-wahn to!" I'm not sure where he got this phrase, but it's a bit disheartening to hear this fun-loving, carefree sponge of life hiccup a piece of trash from our mad world. Inevitable as it was, I would choose to keep him shrouded in those twinkle, twinkle good dreams.
On a lighter note, I do love the way he expresses appreciation. He doesn't say "Thank you" or a Polish equivalent; he says simply, "thanks" as evidenced in this video.
Roman is all-boy. When we go somewhere he wants a toy of some kind to take with him. It's either a Matchbox car or an airplane or a rocket or a bulldozer or a balloon. We've learned to have something small for him to carry along so that he's not lugging around a giant, toy spaceship when we're shopping. At night, when it's time for bed, Roman grabs one of these toys to sleep with. He doesn't want a stuffed animal; he wants a giant semi-truck or a train that he wraps his arm around and "snuggles" with.
He loves being outside (or as he calls it in Polish: napoli). But he doesn't much care for being outside alone, with us watching from the kitchen window. We have a train track that runs a couple of blocks from our house. When a freight trains rolls through, they blow their whistle as they pass over Pines Road. The sound frightens my son. If I'm outside with him, he nervously looks at me and proclaims, "train!" I smile and try to appear light-hearted trying to affirm the harmlessness of the sound. If he does happen to be outside alone when the train whistle sounds, he runs to the back door and tries to get in. Our back door has one of those push-button handles that he hasn't quite mastered, so he starts banging and yelling. One of us lets him in; I like to maintain that trust that he has for us.
He loves water. That boy could splash around all day long. I take him to this spray park in Draffenville, and he runs around aimlessly just happily getting wet. We have a kiddy pool in our backyard in which he likes to scuba dive for sunken treasure.
He had his first Independence Day experience, and it wasn't a good one. We got invited to a really cool 4th of July party complete with all the Americana a man could wish for: good barbecue, cold beer, and (best of all) awesome fireworks. We got to enjoy the first two before the fireworks started, and we discovered rather resolutely that our son doesn't like fireworks (or rather the report that inevitably follows). So, we climbed into the van and tried to watch the show from there which worked for a while; but, when I tried to crack the windows because it was getting stuffy, he jumped into my arms screaming "it's coming! it's coming!" So, we left. And that's ok, because we'll just try again next year.
He loves bike riding with me (which is great because I like that, too). We run what I call the Paducah Loop. We head up Park Avenue to the start of the Greenway Trail, to Noble Park, to the new floodwall trail, to downtown, and back up Jefferson Street until we find our way back home. Downtown, we always stop for a restroom break, and it's there he has a very important decision to make. Do we go to Kirchhoff's Bakery for a cookie or do we hit the Ice Cream Parlor for an ice cream cone? We ride to the foot of Broadway and slowly pedal along the Ohio River where we see ducks and boats and other children. We come back out on Kentucky Avenue to see the train there, and sometimes go to the library or the water fountain there, and then we finally head back over to Jefferson Street for the final leg.
Concerns over how Roman would handle a new, baby sister were rather unfounded, it seems. Roman loves Amelia. He was cautious around her at first, of course. But, slowly that caution has morphed into care. He'll sometimes "pet" her when she cries and tell her "it's ok, it's ok." He'll kiss her forehead when we're leaving her and Joanna at home. He'll place the pacifier in her mouth if it falls out. And he never complains when she cries.
Nights when I get home from work turn into a Huff-and-Puff match that becomes a contest of me "blowing him down" and then him "blowing me down." But, while I usually huff-and-puff he usually huffs-and-huffs. I'm not sure why he doesn't puff. Maybe he knows something I don't.
And when it's time to go to sleep, he lays beside me and pulls up his sleeve. He likes for me to lightly "scrape" my fingernails along his forearm until he falls asleep. Up-and-down his skin until softly his eyes close and within a couple of minutes his arm softly falls to the bed. Then, every adventure from our day becomes a plot point to his starry dreams. I kiss his forehead and that's a wrap.
1 comment:
Your bike rides will be what he remembers...and what will shape him as a Father. :)
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