Hack #5: Space is the Secret to 1:1 QT
I am one of five children and a bona fide middle child. While I know there were daily choices my parents made to ensure none of us felt like we were anything less than a top priority, my mom set a particularly amazing precedent: the “Getaway.”
“Getaways” with Mom were epic when we were kids. Getaways were 1:1 overnights, and the general tone was “treat yo’self” before that phrase was in vogue. My siblings and I talked about these for months (years) afterwards and they live on in our shared narrative.
My Getaway memory — crystal clear even 20+ years later — is as follows:
- We went on an extensive trip to an exotic location
- We saw Homeward Bound in theater
- She let me buy something from the quarter machines at a store when I asked (that was a hard pass in any other context… and now that I’m a parent, I understand why)
- We talked about everything I wanted to talk about, and ate what I wanted to eat
- We went to a hotel (with a pool!!!!) and stayed the night
- I had a great time
I found out many years later that we had only gone as far as Ann Arbor, <1 hour from home.
So when I wanted to get some QT with A, our resident Daddy’s Boy, I knew just what to do.
Friday I picked up A from school early and we hit the road! We went to a hotel not far away and swam in the rocking indoor pool with a massive shallow end. We got room service pizza and pasta and ate on the hotel bed like it didn’t matter if we spilled. We shared a slice of chocolate cake that was not contingent upon him finishing some portion of his entree. We stayed up late and slept like logs. We had continental breakfast and I didn’t blink when he wanted to spoon his strawberry yogurt into the dregs of his orange juice. We went for an extended joyride on the elevator. We swam again and played out roughly 70 scenarios where our pool noodles were hoses extinguishing fires. We listened to his favorite tunes all the way home (who knew?).
Could A articulate what we did by the time he got home and Dave asked how his adventure was with Mom? No.
Did my 2 year old tell me in no uncertain terms that he would be riding a motorcycle when he “got bigger” because we saw two on the drive? Yes.
Did this Getaway help reestablish our bond that has never been the same since C came along? Perhaps not.
But did he have a good enough time that he requested I join him in a resounding and very public “hip hip, HOORAY!” chorus over our breakfast orange juices?? You bet he did.
this is saturday
post cousin slumber party:
toddler hangover.
4 boys, 4 anecdotes that perfectly describe their respective dominant personality traits. See if you can guess who is who: J, O, A, or C.
1: this bro innately prefers all things off-brand: Donald over Mickey, Luigi over Mario, even secondary colors like green over primary blue.
2: this bro is the “domino that won’t fall” according to his teachers. When the entirety of his class successively wakes from nap-time cranky or crying, he is – without fail – smiley and content.
3: this bro is a living study in developmental conflicts between impulse, logic, and responsibility. Immediately following losing his temper with a friend, he will be receptive to conversations around empathy for his friend, and then – completely of his own volition – run over to said friend’s house to apologize in person for his actions.
4: this bro comes home with the following note from his teacher — after a class assignment that would have been counted complete if all he had done was simply scribble a few lines using the crayon of his choice.
Answers: (1) O (2) C (3) J (4) A (of course).
I finish making dinner tonight and look over to see that A has helped himself to a snack as he waited. *Face palm*
Indiscriminate consumption of apples: what does this remind me of?
Adam and Eve? Snow White’s bait? The catalyst of the Trojan War??
No… These trouble-filled stories are too on the nose, even for A.
Let’s go with this:
A haiku inspired by our toddler who evidently maintains an impenetrable immune system:
an apple each day
keeps the doctor away, so
of course he tests neg.
A is our resident instigator. He’s 2.5 years old now, and in the span of 1 week, he covertly switched the dryer settings to “air fluff” (causing a minor panic as our loads kept coming out damp and we were sure we’d need to get a repair scheduled ASAP), snaked my mom’s vaccination card from her purse (which she didn’t discover until getting ready to go to the theater where she needed her proof of vaccination for entry), and changed the temperature settings on our home hub to 50*.
To better illustrate the type of ‘tude this tot often rocks, I present the 2nd episode of “overheard,” this time featuring snippets of A during our recent long drives:
*****
(25 minutes into a 10 hour drive, after having spotted the tiniest glimpse of a Pringles can)
“I just want the chips. I just want the chips. I just want the chips.”
(Repeat for 10 minutes straight in toddler bass vocal range.)
*****
(Practicing how to politely interrupt)
A: excuse me?
Dave: yes, A?
A: don’t talk to me!
*****
A: hi, Mom!
Me: hi, A! I love you!
A (smiles sweetly): I love chips!
*****
A: Mom?
Me: yes, A?
A: no, I’m talking to DAD.
*****
(After Dave agreed to share a few sips of his Powerade)
A: You can have the rest, Dad.
Dave (reaches back to take the bottle): aw, thank you, A. That was so nice of you to save some for–
You haven’t lived until you’ve changed a diaper while being swarmed by bees.
This past weekend, we celebrated A’s 2nd birthday. This involved a playground picnic, a trip to the zoo, and his favorite songs playing on repeat as we drove around town (did you know that the word “lollipop” is said 46x in the song “Lollipop” by the Chordettes? Because I did).
This also involved him accepting pretzel bribes in exchange for sedentary patience at his brothers’ overlapping soccer games, two Slurpees in one day (apologies to pediatric dentists everywhere), and opening gifts while standing atop the kitchen table… because what is childhood as a third-born if not spent in part benefiting from the lowered standards of your more veteran parents?
At 2 years old, A is my “sunshine” baby, owner of the world’s most bashful smile, and the fiercest bro of them all. In a span of 10 minutes, he will have a sympathetic melt-down upon witnessing one of his older brothers get hurt, and then snatch a toy straight out of their hands, proclaim “mine,” and push them around just to drive home the point. He is the great household explorer, locating every danger we could have sworn we’d baby-proofed long ago. He is part of whatever action is happening, evinced by his most recent verbal addition of the phrase “wat[ch] me, Mom!” as he mimics whatever risky behavior his brothers — who have substantial advantages in size, mobility, and (evidently) depth perception — are engaging in. His happy place is swaying on a swing, his favorite book is “Where’s Spot?” and he gives – without question – the greatest running hugs upon daycare pickup. He may live in a wardrobe exclusively comprised of hand-me-downs, but he is definitely one-of-a-kind.
Happy birthday, Scooch.
