Another One for Science

Two weeks ago I took Oliver over to the University of Minnesota on a Saturday afternoon to play "games."  At least that's how I explained the purpose of our excursion.  Really, I'd volunteered him for another child development study, so he was going to be hanging out with a child psychology PhD student named Emily. Both he and Soren are in a database of volunteers U researchers can call upon.  The last time he was "called up" was when he was four months old.   

This study was conducted by the Carlson Child Development Lab and sought to study preschool children’s self-control and number skills.  The e-mail I received ahead of time explained that the "purpose of this study is to examine how children’s understanding of various number concepts in combination with their ability to control impulses can improve their performance on a choice task. Specifically, we are studying whether changing the amount and size of rewards can improve children’s performance on a task where they are required to pick a smaller amount in order to receive a larger amount."

When I finished reading the purpose out loud to Chris, I looked up at him and we both laughed.  They were going to see if Oliver could control his impulses!  That's not exactly the strength of a three-year-old. 

Chris and I had pumped Oliver up over the idea of playing games and he was really excited when we first arrived.  Emily met us in front of the building and was warm and bubbly and clearly had a lot of experience with young children.  (In fact, Oliver was participant 86 out of 100 for this study alone.  At an hour long each, that's a lot of hours invested!) However, Oliver burst into tears when we arrived at the room where the study was conducted.  He clearly knew something big was happening and he freaked out.  Emily was a pro at distraction and while she assured him mom would be staying the whole time in the room with him, she engaged him in making "cupcakes" with playdough and from that point on, I don't know if he even looked back at me until the hour was up.    Emily ran him through a series of "games" and it was impressive how smoothly she juggled asking Oliver questions, sorting cards and other props needed, recording answers, encouraging him and gently redirecting him if he showed the slightest sign of disinterest and remaining upbeat question after question, experiment after experiment, given this was the 86th time through her spiel.  But the most impressive of all was that Oliver sat in his chair the entire time and was completely engaged.  How did I not think to ask if Emily babysits? 

In one experiment, Oliver was presented with two bins with balls in each one.  He was instructed to pick a bin and the contents of that bin would go in the basket for the stuffed monkey.  The contents of the bin he didn't pick would go into his basket.  The goal was to end up with more balls in your basket than the monkey's basket.  As you can imagine, Oliver started by picking the bin with the most balls and they would then go to the monkey.  I was amazed that he figured out that he actually had to pick the bin with the smaller "prize' to get a bigger "prize" later, and impressed that it only took him two or three rounds to catch on.   Some of the experiments were really difficult for a three-year-old. In one, he was given a piece of paper with a line and a 0 on the left end of the line and a 10 on the other end.  He was shown a card with a number on it and instructed to mark with his crayon where he thought that number should be on the line.  He did okay with the 0-10 paper, again, surprised that he even had any idea how numbers related to each other in this way, but with the 0-20 paper, he marked around where the 2 should be for the next six cards.   Emily explained afterward that they start the kids out with the easiest questions and then progressively get harder.  The child has to get six answers wrong in a row before Emily can stop and move on to a different experiment.  If the child answers a question correctly, even if it's clear he had no clue and was only guessing, she continues with a harder question.  That would explain why in one experiment, Oliver was being asked math questions I was having trouble with.  He'd gone a couple of rounds of getting five questions wrong and then the sixth question right, so he was eventually on fifth-grade-level questions. 

Just when I thought Emily's luck in keeping Oliver so engaged had to run out, she wrapped up the last experiment and cheerfully thanked Oliver for coming to play with her.  He beamed.  She let him pick out a t-shirt for his participation.  His said University of Minnesota "Junior Scientist" on it. 

I've been asked what motivates me to take a chunk of my time from a weekend afternoon to participate in something like this.  For one, any reason to get Oliver out of the house during Soren's afternoon nap means that Soren will actually get to sleep.  But also, I do a lot of reading on the topics of child development and early childhood education and the authors reference studies conducted at universities all over the world.  Behind each of those studies are hundreds or even thousands of participants like Oliver and Soren.  I had my theory about whether a three-year-old could delay gratification, but until you pair 100 of them up with a stuffed monkey, you don't actually know the answer is. 

Big Eyes and an Old Soul

Here are two of my favorite photos of my little boys, taken of them around the same age.  It's their eyes that I love. Everytime I come across these photos, I gravitate to their eyes and have trouble looking away.

Up until Oliver finally grew a full head of hair, I heard often about what big eyes he had.  It seemed everyone marveled at those big brown eyes that studied you cautiously, but intently.  Chris and I sometimes looked at each other and wondered who gave Oliver his big beautiful eyes.  The color is surely from Chris, but it seemed like the eyes that captured the attention of strangers are distinctly his. 

Oliver, age 18 months

Can you believe from this picture that Soren has a big grin and an infectious laugh?  He's overall such a happy kid!  If he's not smiling, he looks, as a friend described him, as having an "old soul."  He'll follow you with his gaze and connect with your emotions with those eyes. 

Soren, age 20 months

 

Recovered

My recovery the first two weeks after surgery progressed really well.  I actually felt well enough to return to my desk job the Monday after surgery and by my post-op appointment a week post-surgery, I was no longer taking prescription painkillers and had stopped my scheduled doses of Tylenol and Ibuprofen. 

While I up and about and going about my daily routine in what seemed like a very short amount of time after surgery, the area around my incisions felt sore and tired by the evening if I'd done too much during the day. It was frustrating to realize that going for leisurely lunchtime walk was too much.  Every twinge I felt in my lower abdomen made me worry that the damage inside of me wasn't healing properly.  I quickly reached feeling 95% recovered, but I felt like I was never going to fully recover. 

I was playing with the kids yesterday when I realized that I was picking up my kids up like I did pre-surgery.  My body didn't go into its subconscious defensive mode by lifting them as gingerly as possible and I didn't feel guilty, like I was jeopardizing my health.  Instead, I tossed Soren (gently still) in the air and swung him around as he smiled and giggled.  I sat on a swing and pulled Oliver into my lap so we could swing together.  And it felt good!  My body felt good and I felt relief that I may have reached 100% recovery. 

Up at the Farm

We celebrated Grandma Bea's 83rd birthday at Chris's aunt and uncle's farm in Becker, MN.  I was excited to spend the day on the farm, because the last time I was there Chris's cousin's lab had recently had a litter of 11 puppies and I thought I had died and gone to heaven.  The puppies have since found new homes, but the farm is still full of other animals.  And then I remembered that a farm full of animals and Soren could be disaster.

I called my brother-in-law who had gotten a head start on the hour-plus trip up to Becker and asked him if there were any animals roaming around and if he could corral them.

Andy had just parked his car on the lawn between the houses, the hog barn and the pastures and had stepped out.

"Well," he said, surveying the scene, "I see a dog, oh my gosh, lots of cats.  Yes, there are cats.  Oh, and there's a pig running around.  And some ducks."

When he said there was a pig running around, I had assumed he meant he could see a pig in the pasture behind a fence.  Sure enough, the first animal I saw when I stepped out of our car was a 300-pound hog lumbering towards me.  No sooner had Chris's aunt shooed the hog behind the safety of a fenced enclosure when we their one-year-old yellow Lab, Casey, greeted us with slobbery kisses. 

There were indeed lots of cats.  His aunt estimates they have more than 30 barn cats, but there are really too many to keep track of.  There were three litters of six-to-eight-week old kittens and I had to watch where I walked because I was afraid I'd step on one.  Even though I'm not a cat person, I loved cradling the tiny little kittens nestled in the cup of my hands and watching the usually wild Casey tenderly nuzzle them. 

Soren did not care for the animal kingdom that surrounded him, but he was fine as long as someone was holding him or we were in the house, which is where we ended up spending a lot of the time because it drizzled most of the day. 

 



Soren sits in the safety of Uncle Andy's lap.

 

 

Oliver wears his "barn boots" (aka, rain boots) out to the barn to meet some animals.

Not surprisingly, they find a kitten.

 

Oliver sports his "Oliver" hat with his cousin Nathan Oliver and uncle Clyde Oliver.

 

Casey was so gentle with the kittens.

Uncle Clyde's Ford F150.  You don't see "9PTBUCK" vanity plates back in New Jersey!

 

 

Soren Update: 20 Months

The biggest milestone Soren experienced this past month was transitioning from his crib to his bed.  Actually, we ended up transitioning him much earlier than planned, so his "bed" is his crib mattress on the floor.  After my surgery, Chris and his parents were able to take care of the kids while I recovered, which was essential since I wasn't allowed to lift anything heavier than 10 pounds.  Oliver and Soren are self-sufficient enough that once I got through the worst of my recovery, I could take care of them as long as I didn't have to lift them.  The only solution to not having to lift Soren in and out of his crib seemed to be to eliminate the crib altogether.  In the 15 minutes it took to Chris to dismantle the crib and haul it down to the basement, Soren left another piece of babyhood behind.

Soren cried when we put him down in his new "bed" that first night, but he's been doing that a lot lately right at bedtime, so we weren't sure if his protesting was actually because he was not in his crib or not.  The only challenge we encountered was that Soren's bedroom door didn't latch and Soren discovered he was no longer contained in his room!  The first morning I found it cute when I rolled over and Soren was standing at my bedside and smiling at me from behind his pacifier.  And his crawling into bed with Oliver was ueber heart-warming.  But the morning I took five trips from my warm bed between 5:07 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. when I gave up fetching Soren from either the living room or the staircase was not stoking my motherly love.  I was frustrated, tired and also nervous that Soren would hurt himself since he was doing all this exploring in his sleepsack.  Soren spent the next few nights and naps in his pack 'n' play until Chris could fix the latch on the door and that solved the problem. 

Soren is getting more clever, beyond figuring out he can break out of his room. If he wants to get up on the couch, he knows he can fetch the little stool we have in the kitchen and bring it over to the couch to help him climb up.  When I wasn't allowed to lift him, I'd put the stool by his chair and he'd climb up into his booster seat with just a bit of assistance.

He's also in a testing boundaries phase. He likes a good chase, especially when Mom wants him to go one direction and he decides to go in the other. When he books down the sidewalk, I thought at first I could ignore him because he'd eventually become scared if got too far away from me. That tactic doesn't seem to work, so off I go after him. He's still got a bit of a yoda-like run, but he's still quick!

Soren is picking up a few more words, like "bubble" and "water".  But the sweetest new word is "Oliver" and he actually does quite a good job pronouncing it.  When we picked the name Oliver, we had no idea how difficult the letter "l" is for little kids to pronounce. 

When Soren gets really excited about something, such as the prospect of a snack, he flaps his arms up and down and bounces up and down.  But watch out, if for some reason he thinks the thing he was so excited about is not going to materialize, he starts bawling and it's a pitiful sight!

He picked up another random virus this past month, the third in two months.  He always had a really high fever for a couple of days, but not many other symptoms.  At the first visit they took his blood, a throat swab and then a urine sample.  The nurses gave him as much apple juice as he wanted, but it still took an hour and a half to get his sample and then the results came back showing nothing.  The second trip to the doctor came after his temperature approached 105.  I left work pronto and took him in and still just some random, unknown virus.  Yet another fever two weeks ago brought us back to the doctor, who diagnosed an ear infection.  I know this spate of illnesses could be a lot worse, but I'm hoping for a sickness-free stretch for the summer. 

What I realized I missed the most this past month was being able to pick up Soren up and cuddle him.  He's such an active toddler that unless I'm holding him, the cuddles and hugs on are on his terms.  We snuggled while reading stories, or he'd stop playing to get a reassuring hug from me, but he hardly stays still for long.  I used to cart him around the house on my hip and he loved being with me every moment he could.  I've been able to lift him more, but I'm afraid my days of Soren being my sidekick are behind me. 

Gardening, the New Hobby

Given my parents' lack of interest in gardening, I never thought I'd list gardening as a hobby.  When we lived in Medford, we lived in the woods and our mostly-shaded yard contained as much moss as grass.  Besides the trees my parents planted for my brother and me, the only time I recall my parents trying to plant anything was when my mom scattered some wildflower seed behind our patio.  Nothing grew.  In Haddonfield, we mowed and we raked, that was it. 

I have no idea where my interest in gardening came from, but once I had a yard of my own, I couldn't wait to start planting.  Yet it took a season to have the confidence to just plant and see what happens.  The former owners had installed window boxes below our porch windows and although I thought nothing made a house look more quaint and homey than window boxes overflowing with flowers, I suddenly felt self-conscious about my gardening skills essentially being on display.  I remember my neighbor assuring me that planting something isn't as permanent as it felt - if I decided I didn't like the location, dig it up and move it! 

For two people who had no idea what we were doing, Chris and I have been reasonably successful at gardening.  And by successful, I mean that sometimes people stop and tell us what pretty flowers we have or gawk it how high our tomato plants grew.  (Our tomato plants did grow really high last year, but didn't actually produce many tomatoes.)  We've learned that experimenting is a big part of gardening.  Since our vegetables didn't do so well last year, we scaled back and focused more on flower this year.  And the new garden we put in last year is a difficult spot because of the presence of a large tree and tree roots, but we're going to keep on planting until we figure out what works. 

I used to not understand gardening as a hobby.  I thought that gardening was a one-time event - you planted a bunch of stuff, but otherwise, came back every now and then to water.  I didn't realize how much time you invest in "tending" a garden.  Once I've cleaned up the garden in the spring and planted everything, (which is a few weekends worth of work) the daily weeding and watering can take a half an hour to an hour.  And this is to tend to an eighth of an acre. 

Gardening really has become a labor of love.  I enjoy visiting nurseries, learning about the plants and deciding what to plant and where.  I find myself staring at the little gardens on my eight of an acre and mulling over future improvements.  Maybe I could take out those shrubs I've never liked, or add some more color there.  Or I notice more weeds that need pulling or plants that need pruning. 

Being a parent of two young children leaves little time to devote to large-scale gardening projects, so I plan little by little.  The short growing season in Minnesota is another limiting factor.  I appreciate that being my gardening hobby forces me outside each day and gives me something to share with my kids.  They can play while I garden and of course they like to dig in the dirt!  I hope they'll learn along with me over the years. 

A huge, and surprising, downside to gardening is how expensive it is!  Every spring, we spend hundreds of dollars on annuals and vegetable plants, soil and mulch to garden our eighth of an acre.  I'll buy a few more plants as the season goes on either to add to what I already have or to replace annuals that only thrive for the first half of the season.  Then there's always new tools to buy - another watering can, pruner or rake.  Along with kitchen stores, gardening centers should be added to the list of places I can't enter without a strict spending budget. 

Ironically, now that my dad is remarried, he has become a gardener, at least under the careful direction of my step-mother.  When my step-mother moved in, she brought not only her nice furniture, matching dishes and tasteful wall hangings, but all her plants from her old yard.  She has a strict watering schedule, which my dad dutifully sticks to whenever she's out of town. With a new deck, professionally landscaped front yard and trimmed trees, the yard is a place you want to hang out in now. 

Peaceful Sleep

I headed upstairs last night to get ready for bed and I noticed Soren's door ajar.  We had transitioned Soren from his crib to a mattress on the floor this past weekend and I'm still adjusting to the reality that he is no longer safely contained in his crib.  I panicked when I didn't see Soren in his bed, even though he couldn't have gone far given that I had been planted on the living room couch at the foot of the stairs ever since I put the kids to bed at 7:00 p.m.  I hadn't heard a peep from him and assumed he had gone straight to sleep, or so I thought. 

 

I honestly was just about to run through the house in a frenzied search for my missing baby when I poked my head in Oliver's room and found this peaceful sight. 





 

Soren was curled up in Oliver's bed sound asleep.  Since I never heard any commotion from Oliver's room, I'm not sure Oliver even knew Soren was there.  At some point, Soren must have woken up and decided to go find Oliver.  Perhaps he wanted to play with his big brother or when he found him asleep, gave up and decided Oliver's bed looked just as comfortable as his own.  Soren adores his big brother and I guess it shouldn't be surprising that his first inclination when waking up in the middle of the night was to go find him. 

I find watching my children sleep one of the most peaceful moments in the world, but seeing them curled up in the same bed made me fill up with an extra sense of love.  I kissed both of them and stroked their heads and arms and wanted to snuggle up with them, but feared waking them.  After a final round of kisses and gentle snuggles, I pulled myself away and fell fast asleep in my own bed. 

Recovery Mode

Since my two c-sections comprise my experience with major surgery, my anxiety about surgery is rather heightened.  So I was relieved to experience that the recovery from laparoscopy really is easier than abdominal surgery.  As long as I was diligent with my schedule of painkillers, I was actually in far less pain post-surgery than I was pre-surgery.  Unlike after a c-section, it didn't taken ten minutes and a few tears just to get out of bed!  And I didn't have a newborn to nurse numerous times a night! 

I spent the three and a half days since being released from the hospital taking very seriously doctor's orders, which meant no housework, no cooking and no childcare.  I honestly spent most of the time sprawled out on my couch watching reruns of Friday Night Lights on Netflix.  I was super exhausted, whether that was a side effect of surgery, the blood loss, the cold I caught from Soren or some combination thereof, so I happily vegged out until I got bored.  Watching TV was about all I could do because I was supposed to stay off my feet and I had discovered a strange side effect of pain medications I'd never experienced before - blurry vision.  Unable to comfortably read the newspaper or anything within arm's length, I called the doctor thinking I had become far-sighted  overnight. Luckily by Sunday, my vision problems started to subside and I could happily read the People magazines my mother-in-law had dropped off for me. 

The hardest part of recovery continues to be trying to take it easy when I really am feeling so much better.  I know I pushed myself too hard after Soren's birth and I'm afraid of repeating that this time around.  When you have tons of people around you taking care of you, it sounds easy in theory to literally not do anything.  But the kids wanted to climb up on the couch and cuddle with me, sunny weather beckoned me outside and dirty dishes and toys strewn about the living room taunted me.  Even though Chris was on full-time kid-duty this weekend, it was so helpful when his parents took the kids overnight, because it took away some temptation and allowed me to do what I was supposed to do - absolutely nothing - without feeling guilty. 

I'm keeping my fingers crossed this latest round of recovery will be the last.  I'm ready to move on with my life.  I want to return to tending my garden, enjoying the summer weather and running after my two energetic little boys.