Cold Spaghetti

Coldspaghetti’s Shutterfly pages have been updated with lots of albums… just in case you’ve missed them.

The onslaught of not-age-appropriate influences in Will’s life has spurred endless questions as The Little Man deals with difficult concepts of good and bad… who are good guys, who are bad guys, why are people bad, why don’t Superheros always save hurt people, who goes to jail, and so on.

This has been a very complicated venture. It’s involved conversations like this:

“Mommy, Spiderman is not real?”
“That’s right, Will. Superheros are not real people. They are stories, made up, in our imaginations.”
“But if we’re bit by a Super-spider, we can turn into a Superhero.”

Well, I guess that would be true. What could I say to that?

When the Birds were in town, Paul took Will with him to the D-Day Museum with friend Mike (a Bird husband) — our thought process was that Will would fascinated by the planes and assorted equipment. And he was… when he wasn’t walking into a movie showing someone being blown up with napalm. (First thing he said to me when I picked them up — Will: “Mommy, Daddy showed me a scary movie.” Paul: “I’ve filled my quota of questions until Will is 14.”)

This, combined with the “good” and “bad” Spiderman (how he learned that there is a good and bad Spiderman — something that I understand is part of the third movie? — I do not know) and the exposure to ideas of heroism and war, started making strong dichotomies within Will’s thinking. That there were “good guys” and “bad guys.” That “good guys” fight the “bad guys” and “put them in jail” or “shoot them with shooters” or “kill them.”

All very troublesome to his pacifist parents. I got jumpy even typing the words.

How do we teach respect for service men and women without glorifying conflict? How do we teach that “good” and “bad” are not so black and white, and that there is not some enemy that good is always out to conquer? Difficult concepts for most adults, let alone 3-year olds.

So we moved to a new plan. Here’s how it goes. There are no “bad guys.” There are only PEOPLE — like all of us are people — and we can choose to do THINGS that are GOOD, or THINGS that are BAD. When adults choose to do THINGS that are BAD, other people like police and soldiers have to work to make them NOT do BAD THINGS. This is why we have jail and why adults have BIG FIGHTS. The fights are something that is VERY HARD and VERY SAD. When children do BAD things, parents and teachers help the children to learn which things are BAD and how to make GOOD choices to do GOOD THINGS. This is the new party line.

It came in very handy tonight, when Will chose to do a BAD THING.

He pooped in Granna and PapPap’s pool. More than that, when he paused quietly and Paul asked him if he needed to poop (he had a “look”) and I followed with asking him if he WAS, in fact, pooping just then — he said “no.” Which was a lie. A full-on LIE. A very BAD THING.

So, after a not-so-pleasant discovery, clean-up, and shower, Will went on to the massive apologizing and talking that one would expect to follow such a serious misstep in behavior. And all this stuff about people making choices — choices which can be good and choices which can be bad — and that Will made a supremely bad choice. Both in pooping, and more importantly, in not telling the truth about it.

He seemed pretty darn sorrowful about the whole thing, but I wasn’t completely sure if he was upset about his choices, or about getting caught. Then, after a story (about a Sweet Pickles character who lies), a talk, and a straight-to-bed sort of bedtime (that still included a sweet song and hugs and I love you — I’m not a completely heartless Mother), Will had a sobbing breakdown. Paul and I had stepped out to run an errand, leaving my Mom to handle it. Her report was that Will was crying and crying for us — wanted to cuddle, to generally know that everything was okay, to get our acceptance. As much as I hate the thought of him crying, I admit that I am happy to hear it — maybe there is a good side to all of this good guy bad guy talk. Maybe he is really starting to understand the idea of thinking about the choices we make. This alone is the kind of breakthrough all parents of three-year olds crave: the THOUGHT process… actual thinking before doing. Could it be possible that Will may actually start to do this in the near future?

Thursday morning was the end of our beach vacation — we checked out early and decided to visit the US Naval base in Pensacola, home of the Blue Angels and of the US Naval Air Museum. (Also the location of my father’s first post-Naval Academy assignment… he was a star flyer when he decided to give it all up for nuclear engineering and submarines, but that’s another story.)
The Museum was spectacular. I was so impressed at how well they showcased the technology, history, and challenges of flight, aviation, and conflict — without glorifying war or simplifying the complex issues of wartime history. It also did what we’d hope it would: give Will an interest in planes, engines, and technology over the good/bad ideas he’s struggling with. (More on this later.)
The above is Kate with a turbo jet engine — they had several engines out and cut aside to show the intake and compressors (very cool and educational; I learned a lot!)
This is a real “air boat” used for sea rescues. It was cut away at the sides as a teaching tool post WWII and then renovated for the museum a few years ago. People were certainly smaller 50 years ago!
The top of an actual aircraft carrier. There were several scale carrier models throughout the Museum. We looked for ones that my Dad had worked on (specifically the George Washington, which Paul and I actually walked UNDERNEATH while it was in dry dock in Norfolk Naval Shipyard while Dad was in command. Will did not grasp the coolness of his parents having walked underneath an aircraft carrier; nor of his PapPap building them.)
I was fascinated by the WWII propaganda materials. (Above is Admiral Nimitz, a WWII general whose name went to the USS Nimitz, a supercarrier built in the 70s. My Dad has something about the USS Nimitz up in his office… service award? photograph? fleet certificate?… so this poster stood out in my mind.)
Below is part of a 1950s-ear “Main Street USA” — I didn’t see this part as I was running Kate around in the toddler play area downstairs — Paul has been raving about how well it was done.
Planes, planes, and more planes. Very well organized and designed space.


Will sat in the cockpit of a Blue Angels jet, a F-14 jet plane, and a ton of others.

We decided this was definitely worth a trip from New Orleans just to visit. There is also an impressive IMAX (showing Hurricane on the Bayou right now along with several flight-related shows, including one of the Smithsonian flight movies I remember from years ago) and a little restaurant. (And a ton of retirees just WAITING to help visitors through the exhibits.) Oh, and did I mention it’s free? Next time, my Dad needs to be there, too!

… looking upset because her mother thwarted her attempts at tickling a bumblebee hopping along the patio.

We have been closely following the recovery from the devastating earthquake in Peru and hearts and minds are with our friends in that beautiful country. Pisco was the only place we visited outside of Lima — a beautiful little fishing village with a military base, with vacation spots in Paracas for travelers to enjoy the beach and nearby Islas Ballestas and Nazca Lines. Our visit co-incided with the Pisco festival (a strong drink that I passed on, but Paul was liberally given by our gracious hosts) and we truly enjoyed our time there. (Link on the “Peru” link to read the posts from our brief homestead.) Had Katrina not come, had the levees not failed, we would most likely be living in Lima and had experienced all of this first-hand.

Although I have not had news from several friends in the area, I have seen several updates from expats living in Peru, including information on relief efforts. From this information, I know of several small groups who are working directly towards relief efforts with no overhead. (These include the local American-Canadian Association, where a friend of ours is very active (Jim, who taught in a high school attended by bloggers BC4 and JMR and who we had lunch with the weekend before moving back to the States) and a English/Spanish school based in Lima. Both have direct contacts with families and colleagues in the Pisco/Ica area. Also, a friend of mine is going to Lima in about a week and will be bringing making some small deliveries to friends on our behalf. Should anyone be interested in contributions, please contact me.)

La Republica ran a great story about the history of earthquakes in Peru and Wikipedia also has some historical reference information.

Really hopped up on drugs, I took on the Pensacola Pier. Initially, Paul wanted for us to go sailing (something he’s been wanting to do since forever), but the combination of low wind and my still pretty rough back ruled it out. Instead, we used the medicated afternoon (usually I just medicate mornings in order to handle kids and beach, but today was an exception) to use the kids’ naptime to explore.
Pensacola Beach Pier is very long, almost 1500 feet. According to the sign, it’s the “longest and friendliest” in the Gulf.

We walked pretty slowly, so it took awhile.

It is pretty long — you don’t realize how quickly you’ve gotten far away from the shoreline.
The water is still quite clear: clear enough to see lots of fish… and jellyfish! Including several of the largest, most GI-NORMOUS jellyfish I’ve ever seen. Bigger around than a tire… HUGE… and terribly frightening. I didn’t take pictures of them and wish I had. They were unbelievable!
A very, very, very pretty beach.

Day One: Clear, calm water. Small fussy things in breakwater area.
Day Two: Clear, even more calm water. Many jellyfish stings reported by surrounding swimmers and one close call by Holly. Absolutely perfect clear, calm water: like a swimming pool.
Day Three: Clear water with very rough surf. Decent wave action. Knocked us around… Kate (who was running towards the water yesterday) would start to say “no no no no” when we’d bring her over to get washed off.
My Dad took this picture moments before the wave building behind us came to knock all four of us on our asses. Everyone of us was in the water (I still had Kate in my arms, but she did go under for a second) and kicking all shades off of our faces. Will lost his hat earlier when he and I were swimming — I looked around for several minutes before realizing that the wave had thrown the hat way up on shore… beyond the sand castle Will had built 20 minutes prior with my Dad!
Lots of great ball-play with Skip and Emily! (Note the shirt.)
Kate was very happy to have Daddy there, too. She’s trying to get him to open the cooler (again) in this picture.
Will LOVED the googles we got him… the ocean was so clear, we decided he could use them here as well as the pool. Only, the googles are big for his face and… well. Will: we promise, we would never let you go to grade school looking like this.

Drugs give great relief,
but stop some simple pleasures.
Many days no poo.

Love. The. Beach.
Love the gulf… clear and cool! (Spot those jellyfish!)
Love the company. Lots of hands to hold, eyes to watch, and ears to listen.
Love the sand. Endless possibilities.
And we’ll really love tomorrow if Daddy can join us for a least part of it!

The kids at the beach… playing in the sand and surf for the First Time! Granna and PapPap were on hand for the fun.
Will had a tough time understanding the whole “sand castle” deal. He was very interested in making mud pies, though.

Kate, characteristically, was interested in eating. All the time. The whole morning.
Except for a few moments where chasing her brother became more appealing.
Once sufficiently full (2 eggs, 2 bananas, Kix cereal, trail mix, half a ham sandwich, grapes, and a cup of Gatorade — all before 11am) Kate found that she loved the ocean water.
The breakwater area was filled with small brown furry-looking things (see them in the water?) I have no idea what they were… animal? plant?
The shoreline was a bit of a dip down from the sand edge and did not have the long, progressively deeper water (as we’re used to from years swimming in the Carolina Atlantic), but instead was more bumpy and quicker to gain depth. This made it a bit more intimidating (less space for kids to run from the water’s edge and play with the water) but Will overcame this quickly.
We can’t wait to go back tomorrow!