Summer Round Up 2011, Part 1

Since we've already had our first snow day, I thought I'd take a step back and recall a fine summer's worth of shenanigans with young Master B and Mistress V.

JUNE
We re-discover the park. This particular structure was enjoyed as a boat and a bus.

We find that we like wearing straw hats.


Even though the sun is blazing down on them, the Parental Units attempt to take two small children to an outdoor sculpture park--without a stroller. One child had a great time:


And, one child did not:


JULY
Young Master B re-discovered the promised land where the streets are paved with gold and everyone drives ride-on mowers. We call that magical place, Maryland.


Young Mistress Viv blew bubbles in the front yard.


After 23 years of deprivation, we witnessed Aunt Kara finally get an honest-to-goodness, store-bought birthday cake at Grandma Edie's house.


Grandma Edie even made an appearance, albeit a blurry one.


Back home, young Mistress Vivi took an alligator for a ride.


We held picnics with friends like Perri Party Pants.


Young Mistress Vivi finally transitioned to a more toddler-like bed. We had hoped this would encourage her falling to sleep in her bed versus being rocked to sleep. Hmmm...


Sitting on the yellow bench, Young Master B reflected on the fact that he liked the Warren Zevon version of Knockin' on Heaven's Door best of all.


We visited friends in Southold. Young Master B decided to marry Ella Bean (in the yellow dress). They do make a fine couple.



The miniature train in Greenport (few towns over from Southold) was not working, but Bert and Vivi made the best of it.


Vivi enjoyed paddle boarding and relaxing on the beach, where she whipped out her new sunglasses from Aunt Kara.


Not to be outdone, Bert put his sunglasses on at snacktime.


We rode the carousel - twice.


Back home AGAIN.


Arriving at the start of a massive heat wave in late July, Big Daddy rolled into town.

Ice Cream!

IMG_20110625_120721.jpg, originally uploaded by hal(var).

It's going to be a scorcher today, so make like young Mistress Vivi and grab a cone!

Hot Day at Storm King

shot_1306776250149, originally uploaded by hal(var).

I think Parental Unit #2 looks rather fetching in this photo. Note how young Miss Vivi's pants match Parental Unit #2's shirt.

Sailing the Seas of Cheese

“I like most music, except Primus and yodeling.”

I remember saying that more than once in my days at Florida State University. So what better way to title a post about tantrums—then by citing the album by a band I that I loathed to hear. Even now, my shoulders kind of creep toward my ears in anticipation of the first few dreaded notes of “Jerry Was a Race Car Driver.”

Likewise, we—the Parental Units—have been on guard waiting for young Master B’s Mega-Epic Bad Time Tantrum Explosion. When he’s a teenager, I’ll be sure to suggest that he name his first band that. To which, I’m sure he’ll reply, “Suck it, Mom.”

But I digress. I remember when other parental units used to sigh and shake their heads when I mentioned that young Master B had hit the terrible twos. “Just wait until he turns 4,” many people said. Wait indeed. In the blink of an eye, he will transform from a pleasant chatty boy to a screaming mess of flailing limbs. The crazy part is that these tantrums arise from seemingly benign situations—he watched a Diego, but wants to watch another one; or he doesn’t want to change from pajamas to day clothes. Imagine the Incredible Hulk as a 4 year old—angry, impulsive, and nigh impossible to contain. Trust me, you won’t like him when he’s angry.

Once underway, these tantrums require every inch of my own self-will to stay calm and emotionally disconnected, because frankly, I’d rather tell him to suck it and walk away. I’m not always successful in keeping my cool—as Parental Unit #2 would tell you. When I do manage some degree of patience and the Mega-Epic Bad Time Tantrum Explosion ends, I just want to crawl into a little ball and watch reruns of America’s Next Top Model. What? Oh c’mon, you know that show is even more hilarious over repeated viewings—unlike tantrums.

We’re trying new pre-emptive strategies—kudos to Parental Unit #2 for talking to young Master B this morning about how to handle situations when you don’t get what want. Dare I hope this little chat made an impact on young Master Bertram? As for my own attempts, I could feel Bertram ramping up for Mega-Epic Bad Time Tantrum Explosion last night. Instead of getting angry when he yelled at me, I used humor. I told him in my best announcer voice, you know the voice of the dude who does commercials for mud bogs or vehicle demolitions, that guy, “Oh that’s too bad, because I’m going to read the greatest story in all the world.” Then, I proceeded to go around the apartment, dramatically turning off the lights, while promoting the story I intended to read, “Greatest. Story. In. The. Wooooorld.” It worked—situation diffused.

Honestly, I feel that I’m still holding on to the shell shock of young Master B’s colicky past—so the anticipation, the waiting for the next Mega-Epic Bad Time Tantrum Explosion is actually more stressful than the tantrum itself. It’s an anticipation similar to what I felt like during that summer of 1993, when I could bank on hearing that Primus song, eventually.