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Posted on 09.26.07 by joy @ 3.31pm
The Z-unit is officially a preschool student by trade. The new class at The Acorn School has arrived and we have just completed the first, ominously named hurdle: assimilation. This is the education trade’s jargon for getting your kid to go with a bunch of strange (but fun) adults and other kids. What I found is that the assimilation is just as much, if not more for the parents. As some of you may know Zubin is not much for separation, as he’s really been the product of a well staffed, caregiving team. Parents, grandparents, Ro-ro (the nanny, but so much more that she needs her own category), aunts, uncles and a whole slew of relations. Also, Zubin’s previous attempts at separation at the “just in case” daycare center at the office produced…shall we say mixed results. Day 1: Kids are split into two smaller sections for the assimilation so there are only 6 kids with Zubin. The parents are freaked out for the most part even though we are allowed to stay in the room. The kids know exactly what to do and get on with the business of playing. The social awkwardness for the adults is palpable. Here’s the internal monologue:
The Z-unit went right into the classroom, spent most of his time with the sand box. He looked for me a few times, but unlike some of the other kids, he never came over to me. Then we just went home. Day 2: Back again with our six new friends. Alot of the same as the first day. The parents are getting to know each other better and discussion is coming more easily. A martini bar sure would have helped. This time they introduce a sit down meal together. The teacher rings a bell which makes Zubin stop in his tracks. He looks at me, I shrug. He looks at the teacher who proceeds to lay out places at a small table for 6 sets of Nila wafers and dixie cups with apple juice. Zubin is the first one to sit down, first one to finish his cookies, and the only one to use the napkin to clean the chair he was sitting on. I take note and give him a thumbs up. He gives me an index finger up (still working out the fine motor skillets) and after some more playtime we head home. Next post: Day 3. Separation begins… Filed under: and and Comments: 1 Comment Related Posts: |
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Posted on 08.30.07 by joy @ 11.07am
Well, Oren’s on 3rd Avenue, which I frequent daily, comes to the rescue with a dramatic, outdoor iced coffee delivery to a mom+2 in a Jane Powertwin Filed under: and Comments: None Related Posts: |
Oh, the many times I subjugated my need for caffeine to avoid the dreaded stroller wheelie and door grab!! The BugaQuinStokke super strollers are heavy enough, but now that we have the 
: I relish ramps and automatic doors.
(the Lincoln Towncar of strollers). I witnessed and actually applauded. Hooray Oren’s!|
Posted on 08.20.07 by joy @ 3.33pm
Normally, I wouldn’t raise the red flag on alarmist, hypersafe parenting, but in the case of baby bottles I am choosing to do so. On the logic that infants come into contact with them every 90 minutes or so, and suck on them, Filed under: Comments: 1 Comment Related Posts: |
vigorously at times, it seems like a valid precaution. I was recently forwarded |
Posted on 07.20.07 by joy @ 3.08pm
Zubin has been potty training in preparation for his coming enrollment in nursery school. Also, his poop has begun to smell worse than mine so I had to do something about it. He’s been pretty good at it after some rough starts. We tried the Pull-Ups but we realized that was a crutch for us when our average for bathroom trips went down to 0.5 per day. We switched to traditional underwear which is insanely cute at his size.  It’s worked out nicely, we average less than one accident per day. Recently, I was working with Zubin on a #2 deposit and he said something that made me realize that he would soon achieve the 36th Chamber of waste elimination:
Filed under: Comments: 2 Comments Related Posts: |
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Posted on 07.10.07 by joy @ 8.44pm
What is it about brownstones and bucolic tree lined sidewalks that make people go completely insane? I’ve had many a friend living in “the Slope” wax poetic about their enclave, dating back to the mid 90s when 16th Street and 7th Avenue was sort of “borderline”. This latest incarnation as a middle-class, family ghetto is pathetic. I’m now actually convinced: Park Slope is no longer New York. What’s worse is that the people who move there know it’s pathetic. Just take a look at this article in the New York Times. The author’s inauthentic disdain notwithstanding (I love the fake disdain insurance policy), she would have us believe that the “relaxed” breastfeeding without a modicum of cover in a public restaurant (Two Boots!), taking up the whole sidewalk with a cross-species circus of offspring and canines and waiting until the light turns green to cross an empty “Sesame Street” (where the hell are the cars on Sesame Street anyway?) is what makes her feel like she’s “won the lottery” because she lives in Park Slope. What a fucking crock. Rather than “relaxed”, maybe she meant to type “remorseless” or “rude”. Well I would call it uncivilized, we’re trying to eat pizza here. Why do they have to use that fishing reel dog leash too? You know the one where the dog is walking two blocks ahead? Put your mutt on a leash so he doesn’t jump into my kid’s stroller for god sakes! And by the way, jaywalking is a New Yorker’s god given right. Because unlike the lemmings that need red and green to tell them to stop and go, we think for ourselves. The reality is that Park Slope is a blue chip neighborhood. It’s the people there that suck, big time. And it’s because they have no life other than being parents. Even the gay people there are parents. What the fuck is that? That’s what Park Slope does to you. That’s why it matters that you “take the high road” when someone openly insults you for crossing the street on your own time rather than conforming. If Park Slope was still New York, that woman’s daughter would have got a vocabulary lesson. Filed under: and and Comments: 4 Comments Related Posts: |
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