Reflections on Yellow Ladybird

Happy Mother's Day

Sun, 10 May 2020 11:29:30 -0400

Dear Mom,

My mother’s day wish is that we get a mother-daughters weekend SOON so we can roast marshmallows (and tally how many you eat), drink wine, reflect on how we ever made it this far, and laugh about all the silliness along the way.

In the meantime, I’m reposting from 2012… all of this is still true, times eight.

Happy Mother’s Day!

I am the worst at acknowledging special days like Mother’s day, anniversaries, and birthdays. Even if I remember, it’s rare that I get it together to do something for someone. In my defense, I am this way about my own important dates. I’d just as soon skip my birthday, and last month I had to ask my husband the exact date of our marriage for a form I had to fill out.

Naturally, Mother’s Day is here and I’ve done nothing. So in desperation, I thought I’d post a list of some of the wonderful things my mom has done for her children. And since she is one of my three (wait, I may be up to four) readers of this blog, I’ll count it as my “card”. I’m pretty sure this is cheating, but it beats my usual.

My mom is a wonderful role model. Her patience, her acceptance of who we are, her genuine love of all ages and stages, her creativity… But what really makes my mom amazing is that she did all this without having had a positive role model of her own. My job is a hundred times easier than hers was - all I have to do is think about what she did. But she came up with all this stuff on her own. She’ll probably try to tell me she learned from her German host mother, but really, that was only one year when she was in college and couldn’t possibly account for all she did for us when we were children.

This list* is incomplete as there are many wonderful things my mother has done with us and for us. But here are a few of my favorites. Some were little, every day things that just made life really nice and others had a significant influence on my life. I hope to be able to do these things with my children. Except for drop shot drills at 6am, I don’t think I’ll do that. Or bologna and mustard sandwiches, because that is actually pretty gross.

Thank You Mom. Happy Mother’s Day!

*Since this list is probably only interesting to my mom and my sister, other readers (both of you) should feel free to go here (my favorite blog) to read something more interesting.

The List

Riding on the back of your bike down, down, down to Tower Road beach.

The googly eye stickers on your bike seat.

Getting picked up from preschool with Bee cat in the back seat.

Riding to preschool on a sled in the winter.

Bologna and mustard sandwiches cut out with the gingerbread man cookie cutter.

The Mugo plant in the Rosewood garden.

Riding toodle downtown.

Half birthday parties with shiny invitations made from tinfoil.

Long bike rides.

Family dinners.

Egg custard with “medicine”.

Sending me to summer camp and to Sweden.

Drop shot drills at 6am.

Driving me all around the Midwest for tennis tournaments… and listening to my music the whole time… and liking (or pretending to like) it.

Making me take French (bet you never thought I’d thank you for that one!)

Getting me out of chemistry.

Chocolate malts… and now lattes.

Making quilts.

Introducing me to When Harry Met Sally, then watching it with me dozens of times, then listening to me recite it on road trips.

Always being so kind to my friends.

Giving me just the right amount of freedom during the teenage years to keep me safe but allow me my independence (how did you ever find that perfect balance???)

My wedding flowers (I don’t remember the date but I do remember the beautiful flowers).

Six weeks in DC so I could finish my dissertation.

Reading my dissertation.

Coming with one week’s notice to help with #3.

Hand written letters.

Kayaking on quiet ponds.

And many, many more things.

Face Blindness: Do I know you?

Tue, 10 Feb 2015 07:29:31 -0400

My essay on what it's like to live with Face Blindness is up on Vermoxie! Head on over to read it... then like it and share it, if you are so inclined:-)

Update: Vermoxie is no longer running... so I'm posting the essay here.

Face Blindness: Do I know you?

“Is that the same guy who was just in the last scene?” my dad asks my mom.

“No, dear. He’s the woman’s husband, the one who stole the car,” my mom says of the man on the screen, Colombo’s primary suspect on the hit murder mystery drama.

This was a typical conversation as my family sat on the couch watching 80s TV. Columbo, Dallas, Mash… my dad was always asking my mom to identify the characters for him from one scene to the next.

Now, as my husband and I watch TV, curled up on the couch, it is me who is asking David to confirm who is who.

“Wait, is that the same girl who was just in the restaurant?” I’ll ask.

“No hon,” David answers patiently, hitting pause so he can explain who is who, again. “That’s the journalist, the one threatening to publish the scandalous article.”

These exchanges have always been a part of my life – a normal and necessary component of watching TV. It never struck me as odd that it took the entire first season before I could tell “Vaughn” apart from “Will” in one of my all time favorite series, Alias. David often teased me about my poor facial recognition, but I never thought twice about it. I just chuckled at the similarity between our exchanges and those between my parents twenty years earlier.

But it turns out, my face recognition deficit is real and it has a name: Prosopagnosia. It is defined as a cognitive disorder where the ability to recognize faces is impaired. About two years ago, David sent me the link to an essay written by a man describing what it is like to live with Prosopagnosia. I identified with every aspect of that essay; he could have been describing my life. My dad and I both have prosopagnosia.

I certainly don’t think of it as a disorder, though; it is more of a social inconvenience. And the term face blindness doesn’t really describe what I experience, either. I see faces and I even see details of faces, but I have a very, very poor memory for those details. The threshold for getting a face to stick in my memory seems to be much higher than for the average person. It is possible, though, and there are a large number of people whose faces I can identify instantly, such as my children, husband, close friends, and co-workers I have gotten to know well. Once a face makes it into my memory, it is there for good. A few years ago I reconnected with a high school friend. I hadn’t seen her in nearly twenty years, but I recognized her the minute I saw her, and she looked exactly the same.

But most of the time, I rely heavily on other cues, such as context, hair color and style, accessories such as glasses, clothes, gait, and voice. Of course, everyone uses these cues, but I seem to use them exclusively rather than additionally.

For many years, I was unaware of the fact that I was using these other cues. I assumed I recognized faces, like everyone else. But since David pointed out that I definitely do not fall within normal range of the facial recognition spectrum (and it is a spectrum, just as most cognitive and sensory impairments are), I’ve started to notice that I don’t actually recognize people based on their facial features.

Once, midway through the school semester, a student I had never seen before walked into my class and sat down. I nearly told her she was in the wrong classroom. Luckily I didn’t, because it turns out she was my student, but had dyed her hair from blond to brown over the weekend. At my children’s school, a woman I greeted daily as I walked from my daughter’s classroom to the parking lot simply disappeared from my morning routine. For weeks I wondered why I never saw her anymore, until one day I heard another mom greet the woman I never saw anymore by name on the path to the parking lot. She hadn’t disappeared; she had just cut her very long hair into a bob. In both of these instances, I was astounded by how utterly unfamiliar these women’s faces were to me when their hairstyle changed. I still worry that I offended the woman at school by ignoring her for several weeks, and I wonder how many other people I have inadvertently offended.

Sometimes, my lack of face recognition can be more problematic than simply offending an acquaintance. Once, a man I had never seen before was in our driveway when I returned home from running errands. He greeted me and began talking to my children with a familiarity that made me uncomfortable considering I had no idea who he was. It even seemed he was planning to come inside with me as I unloaded groceries. I grasped for clues as to who he was, rationalizing that I probably did know him. Did I recognize his car? Had he said anything that could at least reveal where we had met? Finally, he mentioned David’s name and referenced the town he lived in… it was David’s uncle whom we had visited only the week before. He was passing through town and had stopped by our house to say hi. Relieved, I invited him inside.

I have many conversations with people who seem to know me, but whom I have no memory of talking to before. I have learned how to stay in a conversation until some cue in the content of our conversation triggers recognition. Other strategies help hide my lack of face recognition as well. I rarely greet anyone by his or her name. I’ll respond to a “Hi, Karen!” with a simple, “Hi!” because I’m rarely confident enough that I have correctly recognized the person within the first few seconds of an encounter.

I have learned to nod in greeting people who appear to know me as we pass on the street, even if I feel I have never seen them before. I have perfected this nod to pass as either a “Hey, I know you but don’t have time to stop and talk” nod, or a “Hey, I don’t know you, but I’m being friendly” nod, just to cover the bases and avoid offending someone I do know, without coming across as odd to someone I don’t know.

I have learned to accept that I won’t always know who someone is, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy a nice chat. If I’m lucky, I’ll figure out who it was after the fact, and eventually, the person’s face will cross the threshold of exposure I need in order for it to enter my memory.

Despite the social awkwardness face blindness can cause, it does have its advantages. I excel at out-of-sight and long-distance recognition. From my desk at work, I can identify who is walking down the hall based on the rhythm of their footsteps or the jingle of their keys. When out and about with my husband or children, I am likely to point out a person walking down the street two blocks away, “Hey! There’s so and so!” and I am almost always right, even if it is the middle of winter and the person is bundled up. I can identify people’s voices quickly and accurately based on only a short snippet of a conversation, even if it is someone I barely know. I am also strangely adept at telling apart identical twins; I suppose it is one case in which non-facial features are more useful than facial features.

Most of the time, I don’t think twice about my face blindness. It is simply a part of my life and I have instinctively adapted to minimize the impact it has on my day-to-day. Besides, unless someone gets a drastic haircut or purchases a new winter coat, my recognition strategies are very effective.

I often wonder if any of my daughters inherited this deficit. Over the summer, when my seven-year-old called out in excitement at the Fourth of July race, “Hey! There’s Jacob! I can tell it’s him by his shoes!” I wondered if it was a sign of prosopagnosia, or if she is simply a typical, observant kid who is tuned into the trendy brand of shoes her classmates wear.

Considering I didn’t even know I had a deficit until my mid thirties, it won’t bother me if my children have prosopagnosia as well. I’m sure they’ll adapt, as my father and I have, and if nothing else, those in the family who don’t have it will enjoy a few laughs at our inability to recognize even our most favorite TV characters... or in some cases, our relatives.

December

Mon, 08 Dec 2014 14:57:51 -0400

The semester is wrapping up, which sounds all nice and tidy, as though the work is coming to an end, but really it means that writing and grading final exams for one semester collides with the (somewhat frantic) prep for the next semester.

In the meantime, winter is definitely here. Six below last night and blinding white, crunchy snow. The town is decorated for Christmas and my children are finally starting to respond to the little elves who are watching for good behavior. Alexandra, who has taken to wrapping all the toys in paper, is asking if she'll get more scotch tape "from Hanukkah".

We have an EIGHT year old now! Katherine's birthday gift this year was her own room. She has organized her shelves and drawers jus the way she likes them. She happily reads herself to sleep now (instead of the putting up with the annoying, loud chatter of her little sisters). She has her own alarm clock, although because of the horrible, shrill bell that startles everyone in the house when it goes off, we have reached an agreement: She does not have to set the alarm as long as she gets out of bed the first time I ask her to in the morning. So far so good.

We're getting ready to take the goats to the "love chateau" across town, where they will get to spend the day with the bucks we have chosen to sire their kids. I expect the big date will happen around the 20th, though I'm a bit skeptical of the whole process. I'm not sure I have actually figured out the does' cycles and I don't really know how long the window of opportunity is. I guess we'll either have goat kids in the spring or we won't! I hope we do.

A few pictures from the past few weeks, including a final picture of the girls' room before Katherine moved out… it was awfully cute when they were all three snug in their beds!

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iPads for Kindergarteners: For the Birds?

Fri, 14 Nov 2014 11:56:36 -0400

(A version of this essay appeared in Holistic Parenting, Nov 2014)

I recently went to visit an elementary school. The school was wonderful - bright, open classrooms with large windows, outdoor playgrounds nestled up in the woods behind the school, healthy homemade lunches, foreign language starting in kindergarten, music and art, and an outdoor eco program. I was very impressed.

And then the principal told me that every kindergartener is given an iPad.

On some level, I can understand the allure of computer technology in the classroom: it offers an abundance of activities on a wide range of topics -- activities that engage and entertain students, are easily incorporated into classroom lessons, and, in some cases, can be tailored to individual levels. Even the National Association for the Education of Young Children (NAEYC) claims that integrating technology in an interactive manner can improve classroom instruction (1). In addition, cutting edge technology is appealing to the parent community who no doubt wants their children to receive a cutting edge education. So when funding is made available for each child to have his or her own iPad, it would be hard for a school to resist.

But cutting edge technology does not equal cutting edge education. In fact, many disadvantages are often associated with screen time, including passivity, lack of social interaction, inhibition of deep processing and reflection, decrease in physical fitness, attentional difficulties, and sleep disturbances (2). One might argue that these findings are based primarily on studies examining the effects of television and video games, not age-appropriate, interactive technology that is integrated into classroom activities under the watchful eye of a dedicated teacher.

Nevertheless, I can’t help but wonder, what can a five-year-old possibly learn better from a screen than from the world itself? When I voiced my concern, the principal reassured me that the iPads are used age-appropriately to enhance learning. For example, during a unit on birds the kindergarteners take their iPads outside to record birdsongs. When they come back inside, they listen to the songs and look at pictures in order to identify the birds.

Using the iPad as a recording device seems harmless. It’s not as though the children are simply sitting at a desk looking at birds on a screen, nor are they being drilled with factual knowledge at the expense of engaging in physical movement and outdoor exploration, both of which would arguably be inappropriate uses of technology (3). The children are using iPads to record birdsongs in nature. At first glance, this scenario appears to characterize an appropriate use of technology in a kindergarten class.

I have to ask, though, what are the children not getting because they are using computer technology? What would the alternative look like?

What if the children were asked to go outside, sit quietly for a period of time (a lost art in and of itself), and really listen to the birdsongs? In small groups they could take turns trying to replicate the song they heard, getting feedback from their peers and teacher on how close they were to the real thing. Instead of focusing on their screens in order to manipulate the recording app, they could observe the birds and make note of their physical characteristics, or draw them on sketchpads. Then, back in the classroom, they could talk about the songs, compare what they recall to a recording the teacher had made, and use their own drawings to identify the birds.

Even though the two activities (with technology and without) are similar in terms of content learned (names, songs, physical appearance of birds), there are fundamental differences in the skills that are required and, thus, developed.

In the lesson with technology, the children are asked to listen for the birdsong and then use the iPad to record it. Back in the classroom, the children use the iPad to replay the birdsong. Although the children do go outside to record the songs, they are relatively passive in the process and there is minimal cooperative interaction.

In the lesson without technology, the children are asked to listen to the birdsong. They have to pay close attention in order to notice the musical detail of the song and the physical appearance of the bird. Furthermore, they have to work together to accomplish the task. Back in the classroom, the children have to rely on their observations in order to identify the bird and its song. In this scenario, the children are active participants throughout the lesson.

A lesson on birds is perfectly appropriate for 4-6 year olds. Furthermore, children these ages are capable of paying attention to and remembering details of birds’ songs and physical appearance. Giving children the opportunity to practice and develop these skills is what learning is all about, perhaps even more so than the actual content of the lesson. So why would an educator design a lesson that promotes a more passive role for the students? In other words, why would you give a child an iPad to record the song instead of requiring the child to engage in the cognitive exercise of recording it mentally?

In discussions with other parents and educators, it often comes up that even if computer technology does not enhance the learning process for young children, it is a fact of society. Therefore, it is important to incorporate technology into the classroom from an early age; not doing so may have the downside of making it more difficult for children to become proficient with technology later in life.

However, with technology changing so quickly, today’s computers won’t even resemble the technology that will exist when our five-year-olds are teenagers, let alone young adults entering the workforce. It is unlikely that the skill of navigating an iPad in 2014 will be relevant to the computer skills needed in 2025. Besides, new technology is increasingly intuitive and user-friendly; if it is not, it is heavily criticized in the market.

Furthermore, I have seen two-year-olds figure out how to work their parents’ “screens” in a matter of minutes, which begs the question, what “computer skills” are children learning if it is something a two-year-old can master in a few minutes? The skills that are really necessary for success with computer technology (and in life in general) are logic, troubleshooting, and perseverance, none of which are typically required in children’s computer programs and apps that operate on a point, drag, and click basis.

Finally, to the best of my knowledge, there is currently no empirical evidence of a critical period for learning technological skills. That is, there is no age after which a person is no longer capable of learning how to use a computer. It is possible that a 40-year-old encountering a computer for the first time would face a steep learning curve (as my own, highly computer-literate father experienced), but a twelve-year-old is just as capable of figuring out a computer as a five-year-old. Case in point, many of us middle-aged folk didn’t have any computer technology in our elementary school classrooms, and we have proven capable of mastering a wide range of new technology, including our iPads.

Regardless, the national trend is to integrate technology into classrooms as early as possible, with technology standards that begin in pre-school. Currently, the NAEYC offers several recommendations for successful integration of technology into the classroom. Generally, they state that, “technology and media should be recognized as tools that are valuable when used intentionally with children to extend and support active, hands-on, creative and authentic engagement with those around them and with their world” (1).

However, their guidelines do not address what I consider to be the detrimental components of technology in early education. For example, while the use of iPads in the bird unit described above falls in line with the NAEYC guidelines, it greatly changes the nature of the activity, and, in my opinion, deprives the children of important skill development.

Therefore, instead of embracing technology as a valuable tool for young learners, I propose evaluating its use based on the following questions:

Does the technology provide the opportunity for children to develop skills or is the technology performing those skills instead of the child?
Does the technology enhance or inhibit the children’s use of their own sensory or physical skills?
How does the technology affect the children’s active participation in the lesson?
What would the same lesson look like if the technology were not used? What is gained and/or lost?

I believe the answers will shift as children get older in that the benefits of technology run along a continuum, increasing as children get older. A computer is unlikely to enhance a lesson on birds for a five-year-old; however, a computer may be extremely beneficial to a fifteen-year-old learning about the human respiratory system in a biology class. Therefore, it seems a reasonable approach would be to gradually – and thoughtfully – integrate technology into the curriculum over a period of several years after the children have had a chance to develop the set of skills the technology will likely replace.

Technology has a useful and important role in society and in education, but technology is also most beneficial when it extends or facilitates human capability, not when it replaces it. If children are not given the opportunity to use and develop a range of skills, then as adults, they will be far less capable, and their use of technology will be far less effective.

(1) http://www.naeyc.org/files/naeyc/file/positions/PS_technology_WEB2.pdf

(2) Sigman, A. (2012). The impact of screen media on children: A Eurovision for parliament. Improving the Quality of Childhood in Europe 2012, Volume 3.

(3) Wardle, F. (2002) The role of technology in early childhood programs. Earlychildhoodnews.com. Retrieved August 5, 2014 from [www.earlychildhoodnews.com/earlychil...](http://www.earlychildhoodnews.com/earlychildhood/article_view.aspx?ArticleID=302)

November Post

Fri, 07 Nov 2014 23:37:59 -0400

Yes, I am very aware that I rarely come to this space anymore… and that even on Fridays, I don't always manage to post my “This moment”.

I have a tendency to overcommit; generally, I like to exist in that slightly overwhelmed realm of life. The organizational challenge of taking on a little too much is quite satisfying. But sometimes the balance tips from slightly overwhelmed to completely overwhelmed, and that is where I am right now. I’ve been here before and getting myself out of it is always a tricky because I can’t choose what to let go.

Kids. Most days I am home with three kids, give or take two depending on school, play dates, sick days, and the carpool schedule. They are lovely little creatures, but they suck the energy right out of me. Actually, it’s dressing them, wiping the littlest’s butt, feeding all of them three meals plus snacks, and bathing them often enough that the butts don’t start to stink that sucks the energy out of me. Oh, and the laundry. Keeping up with laundry for five is in and of itself a substantial time commitment. Those two days a week when I am at work (and don’t feed the kids or wipe their butts) are a wonderful break, but it also means I have to prepare extra meals the night before and do extra laundry the night after.

If my husband, Dave, reads this, he will surely smirk. He is often the one who does the laundry and makes lunches and dinners for all of us. But there is a good chance he won’t read this since he is swamped in his own realm of overwhelmed. So let’s just say, regardless of how often Dave takes on the cooking and laundry, I feel like it is a big part of my day.

Work. I love linguistics and I love teaching, but the amount of childcare we can afford (in order to end up with even a slight financial gain from my working) only covers the time it takes me to drive to campus, teach, hold office hours, and come home. It does not cover time spent on planning, grading, professional development and service activities, or other logistical components of the job. There is nothing we can do about this. You can read more about adjunct salaries here. So after a long day at home with the kids, I settle in at my desk around 8pm to work.

Garden. We planted a huge garden this year. Our goal was to grow enough food to last through the winter. I think we succeeded – our chest freezer is filled with frozen vegetables, soups, lasagnas, and breads. But there is a lot that isn’t getting done. Dozens of cherry tomatoes went to waste because I couldn’t find time to turn them into sauce. Chard and kale have toughened and gone to seed in the hoop house. I barely got the garlic planted, we still have to put the garden to bed, and I have not yet finished planting the tulip bulbs that my mom generously sent to us. As I write this it is snowing. Is it too late?

Farm. This summer we remedied our empty barn problem by getting goats with the plan to breed them this spring. We’re very excited about goat kids and fresh milk… but first we need to figure out which of our neighbor’s bucks are good genetic matches for our does, learn our does' cycles, and prepare for potential pregnancies and babies. I’m not sure what all that means yet, so add in researching goat breeding. I’m really hoping nature just takes its course on this one.

Writing. I love writing. It helps me process my world. I have several writing commitments, including a monthly writer’s workshop, a monthly post at VTmommies, and various other submissions here and there – including this blog. I admit that my writing is a selfish endeavor in that it doesn’t contribute financially, it takes a lot of time, and I am really the only one who benefits from it. It would be much more convenient for our family life if cooking were my preferred extracurricular outlet.

Exercise. This is always the first activity to get cut when time is tight, and not surprisingly, I feel the negative effect on my mental and physical health when I don’t make time for a run or brisk walk. I also know that a 30-minute run would boost the productivity of my late night work sessions, making it well worth the time investment. So, just last week we got an elliptical machine off our neighborhood forum. I am now committed to working out three times a week.

Miscellaneous. There are always extra activities and projects. This category tends to be seasonal. The rotting door and window frames on our very old house need to be repaired and painted before winter. Snow pants need mending (soon!). We have an 8-year-old birthday to celebrate, the impending arrival of a new cousin, Thanksgiving, and the start of the holiday season in general. I’d really like to put thought and care into celebrating these events. I want to savor them; I don’t want to feel rushed or harried.

Down Time. It would be deceiving not to include this. I love curling up with Dave at 10pm to watch an hour of entertaining T.V. We try to limit this luxury to weekends, but occasionally we give in to a Netflix binge and watch during the week… and stay up way too late doing so. But we love it.

I love all of these things that make up my life right now (except having to repair a rotting house and mending snow pants). I don’t want to give any of them up. Of the things I could give up, I wouldn’t even know how to choose if I had to. They all contribute to what we want our life to be… But I also know it is more than I can handle.

Sometimes I fantasize about what it would be like to be just a writer. I’d wake up, go for a run to get my mind going, then settle in at my desk with a cup of tea and write for hours and hours. Or, I wonder what it would be like if I had devoted myself to my career instead of splitting it with stay-home motherhood. If I am really honest, I sometimes wonder (not wish, just wonder) what my life would look like if I had chosen not to get married and have children.

But I know myself: if I created more space, I’d just fill it up again. I’m not sure yet how to work my way out of my current state of overwhelmedness (if any students are reading this, can you tell me what morphological process I used to create the word “overwhelmedness”?), but it usually ends up sorting itself out… eventually.

And, because it is Friday, here is this week’s “This Moment”. Fire, a vampire, and a puppy named Bodhie, who looks more like a cow than a dog.

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Harvest

Fri, 10 Oct 2014 07:59:02 -0400

Not sure this qualifies as a "This moment", but the early morning light on our pumpkins, squash, and indian corn was beautiful this morning. Halloween is one of my favorite holidays (and not just because the Halloween Fairy collects candy from our little Trick or Treaters). I love when the pumpkins start appearing on every porch, indian corn is hung on doors, and kids start imagining their costumes. This year we'll have hot lava, a vampire, and a puppy named Bodie.

Happy October!

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Pumpkins and leaf mazes

Sun, 05 Oct 2014 21:18:53 -0400

It's so easy to focus on what we don't get done each day. Every evening when Dave comes home, I start rattling off the list of things I didn't get to: I didn't make it to the post office, I didn't fold the laundry, I started to clean the bathroom, but didn't finish, and I thought about editing that paper, but well, I just didn't get to it.

Despite the ever-growing list of things I don't get to, I've started making a point of saying what we did do. Everyday mundane things like getting all three kids fed and out the door, doing dishes, and sweeping the floor; and good things, like morning tea with a neighbor, lingering on the swings at drop-off, Saturday afternoon bonfires, pumpkin stands, and leaf mazes.

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At some point I do need to get to the post office and I definitely need to edit that paper. But kids can pick through the pile of clean clothes to find their favorite sweatshirt, and as long as I clean the bathroom before Grandma J and Aunt J arrive, we'll be ok.

A long overdue post

Wed, 10 Sep 2014 07:02:50 -0400

The past several weeks have brought a new rhythm to our lives. The garden is bursting and we are often up until midnight washing, chopping, cooking, shredding, blanching, and freezing. We can barely keep up. Also, my semester started a few weeks ago; I love teaching and am pouring all my creative energy into that. And finally, the kids’ school started back up, which means I spend a fair amount of time driving small people around. I have a wonderful carpool schedule, but the lazy, open-ended summer days have been replaced with waking up early, getting kids up, dressed, and fed, and making sure everyone has their respective backpacks, lunches, spare cloths, and, of course, vegetables for soup day and boots for walk day. We organize as much of it as we can the night before, but we are forgetful (tired!) and distracted (cooking!), so it is still a hustle and bustle in the morning.

The trifecta (I’ve always wanted to use that word) of changes – the garden burst, my work, the kids’ school – is exciting, refreshing, fun… and exhausting. The days are full and I don’t have much time or energy to write (or even read) for myself.

I guess I’m admitting that it might (continue to) be quiet around here for a while. (But I am working on a few writing projects and I hope they make it out into the open at some point)

In the meantime, here is a photo + caption update for record keeping purposes.

This sweet girl turned FIVE last month!

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I finally got around to the garlic. I was a little late getting them out of the ground and several heads burst open. Those cloves are being cooked into soups and sauces, or simply minced and frozen for the winter months. We should still have plenty for replanting and storing, don't you think?

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A (very small) glimpse into the produce overload… yes, we are very grateful for the bounty, but it is completely overwhelming. More on that soon.

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The lilies are done blooming now, but they were magnificent!

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The littlest has taken on brushing the biggest's hair.

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The biggest has taken on reading (yes, reading!) to the littlest.

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To keep up with all the first-day-of-school Facebook posts, here is ours. I took about a dozen pictures, but not one has all three girls smiling normally. Oh well. Notice the cosmos blooming in the background. Mom, they grew!

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And finally, last but not least, the goats! We're learning how to take them for walks through the woods. Clementine (the orangish one below) is rather stubborn and seems to be the leader, so if she gets distracted and heads into the yard (instead of into the woods), there's not much we can do about it. It becomes a bit of a comedy luring them back to the barn… but we're getting the hang of it. And they are so sweet and gentle! They love attention (after they are well fed) and melt right into us when we pet them. The time we spend with these calm souls perfectly balances the current busyness of our days.

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Happy end of summer / back to school everyone!

Llago Dog

Fri, 29 Aug 2014 07:47:06 -0400

This is how I'll always remember my mom's dog… snooping around for leftovers. We'll miss you Llago.

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How we ended up with goats

Thu, 14 Aug 2014 08:17:11 -0400

Goats

When my husband, David, was little he wanted a goat. His sister had a pony and he thought he should have a pet comparable in size. But his parents, who were out in the barn at the crack of dawn every morning soaking Hazel the pony’s chronically infected hoof, wisely decided a bunny was a better idea. David loved that bunny, but “Pepper” wasn’t a goat.

Fast-forward thirty years… After a decade of city living, David and I were more than ready to move to the country. The home we fell in love with, and subsequently moved into last summer, included a picturesque barn with stalls and a paddock already set up for a variety of farm animals, a flock of chickens, and a large vegetable garden. We settled in with the plan of growing into rural living, and slowly adding to our little homestead. Knowing my tendency towards impatience, we made a concerted effort to pace ourselves. We’ll be careful not to take on too much too soon, we said. After all, we are two working parents with three young children. It would be easy to become overwhelmed. We decided to focus on the garden first, and think about farm animals in a few years.

But now, as we plant, weed, and harvest, we’re very aware of the empty barn. Instead of housing animals, the stalls have become home to bicycles and scooters, a lawnmower, a variety of gardening tools, and old carpets we haven’t figured out how to get rid of yet. We can’t help but think that the barn has become a shed… and isn’t that a shame?

Still, we acknowledge we’re not ready for farm animals. We limit ourselves to casual conversation about what kind of animals we’ll want when the time comes: We don’t eat much meat, so pigs don’t make sense. Plus they’re supposed to be really smart and great pets, could we really butcher a pig? What about a cow, not for meat, but for milk? But a milking cow is a huge amount of work. Sheep? Sheep could be nice. But they need a lot of grass and the fencing would be a big investment. Would there be any payoff? Maybe goats. But what do goats do? They’ll eat the brush... Then we sigh and turn our conversation back to the vegetables, reminding ourselves again that the garden alone is almost more than we can handle at this point.

But the thought of goats lingers in the back of my mind. I start to pay a little more attention when we visit friends who have goats. I start asking questions, slowly building up my knowledge of what it means to keep goats. The picture takes shape and I can see goats being a good fit for our family. The goat people I talk to encourage me, describing each of their goats’ personalities, and declaring that goats make great pets—our children would love them, and so would we.

I visit farms that have “great goat set-ups” and I tour their barns, learning about bedding and fencing, grains, and minerals. I price hay bales and learn the difference between first and second cuts, and why both are important for goat nutrition: the first is higher in carbs, the second in protein.

I’m still just gathering information, I tell myself, but soon the momentum is stronger than I am. I have immersed myself in a crash course on goats. Without realizing it, I have tapped into a community that is full of knowledge, resources, and enthusiasm. I’m starting to feel like a goat owner without goats.

So when a post on our local list serve announces four Nigerian Dwarfs for sale, I reply. I’m just going to look, I tell David as laughs at me. He knows that’s not really true. I’m going to look at what will soon be our goats. But he doesn’t stop me.

Later that night we have an honest conversation. We have no business taking on four goats right now. Our days are already full with work, children, the garden, and a variety of other commitments. We are going to pace ourselves.

But I am impatient and David has always wanted a goat.

Clementine, Mabeline, Temperence, and Caramello arrived on Sunday.

Goats!

Tue, 05 Aug 2014 14:11:06 -0400

The past two weeks have been busy. A mad, frantic rush to rearrange the barn, clean out stalls, escape-proof the paddock, stack hay, visit neighbors' farms, and make numerous trips to the farm supply store. All in preparation for the arrival of…

Clementine, Mabeline, Temperance, Caramellow, and Walter!

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Slow summer days...

Wed, 16 Jul 2014 22:37:44 -0400

This month at VTmommies I write about the slow summer days of my childhood. I'm trying to preserve that freedom for my children, but even so, this summer is flying by...

Here is an excerpt:

The long days often gave way to neighborhood cookouts and games of Ghost in the Graveyard (the rules of which I’m not sure I ever understood) that began at dusk and ended around the time you had to strain your eyes to see. Late at night, my mom and I would take night walks up and down our street, counting fireflies and looking up at the stars through the thick leafy arches of trees overhead. My mom would tell me stories of how she and her sisters smashed fireflies on their fingers to make “glow rings” when they were little girls.

The days passed slowly, each one filled with the kind of fun and play only true downtime – and boredom – can inspire. We lost track of the days of the week, and the months were marked only by major events – our town’s children’s fair in June, the 4th of July, my birthday in August. Not until the end of August, when school supplies appeared in the store windows and class lists arrived in the mail, did we sense the approaching school year. We got excited to go back to school; by then we were ready.

You can read it all over at VTmommies!

Around the Garden: Flower Edition

Mon, 23 Jun 2014 14:26:53 -0400

Vegetables are great and all, and I love the neat and tidy rows of a well-organized vegetable garden… but the flowers are stunning. The unknown of our flower garden this year - what I call "Garden Surprise" - very nicely balances out the orderly toil we've put into growing vegetables.

Greens that looked like weeds, but that I've resisted pulling up, are now colorful bunches of flowers whose names I am finally learning. Sweet William spans the patch in front of the hoop house, with bunches of daisies and pansies interspersed here and there, and a low layer of poppies waiting to take over later in the summer. In front of the barn are bleeding hearts, peonies, poppies, clematis, mint, and a few other things I don't know yet.

I've also started to add a bit of my own (well, my mom's) touch: allium, sunflower, impatiens, nasturtium, lupine, and zinnia. The allium and impatiens are doing well, and we're still waiting (hoping) for the others to come up.

Usually I don't like chaos, but in a flower garden, the messy mix of this and that and here and there is just perfect.

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Around the Garden

Mon, 16 Jun 2014 13:37:35 -0400

A long overdue garden update. We've finished planting (we think). Pole beans, bush beans, carrots, shallots, pumpkins, dill, tomatoes, garlic, peas, basil, cucumbers, winter squash, acorn squash, zucchini, broccoli, chard, lettuce (which sadly isn't growing), kale, spinach, rhubarb, asparagus, watermelon, raspberries, blueberries, strawberries, blackberries, and indian corn. I think that is all… I might be forgetting something. Oh, and a wood chip path is in progress.

We seemed to have overcome the snail problem, but now the cucumber beetles have arrived and seem to really like the squash. I've been told I need to not only hand pick them off, but squish them with my fingernails. I'm ok with picking them off, but squishing them between my nails? I'm not quite there yet. But I guess I'll have be if I want squash.

And now, here are many, many pictures.

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Neglected...

Wed, 11 Jun 2014 21:21:34 -0400

Dear little blog,

Once again, you have been sadly neglected and are again at risk of becoming a space for weekly pictures instead of an outlet for my thoughts on parenting. I tell you, that month of May nearly did me in… and I'm still catching up on all the other things I let go when I was giving you lots of attention. Important things, like working for gun safety legislation (interested in helping out? Email me!), overdue writing commitments, end-of-the-school-year events, figuring out our summer schedule, oh, and taking care of three kids.

But I'll find that balance again soon… as soon as I start waking up early every morning to write.

In the meantime, how about a few pictures of our summer sprinkler kick-off? Katherine and Clara love the sprinkler and never tire of sneaking up on me when I have the hose, hoping to get a blast of water turned on them. Alexandra is a little wary, but doesn't mind a little shower from time to time.

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Chores and Defiance

Wed, 04 Jun 2014 22:18:53 -0400

After three months, the chore chart that Katherine was so excited about has lost its appeal. Although she does her daily chores with little to no prodding (me) or whining (her), the other, bigger chores have become a bit of a battle. Even her favorite one – waking up early on Sunday morning to make pancakes – no longer interests her.

In some ways, I’m not surprised. She wanted an allowance so she could buy things, but the act of saving up money over a period of several weeks is still a bit abstract to her. Plus, at $.25 a week, saving up $2.00 for the little package of Rainbow rubber bands she wanted was a long haul. I think she decided it wasn’t worth all the work, and once she purchased them, there wasn’t really anything else she wanted.

Also, we never set aside a consistent time for her to do her chores. We tried to make late afternoon "chore time" hoping the balance of independent, somewhat monotonous, physical-but-not-difficult work (i.e., sweeping, changing sheets, filling the woodbox) would meet the witching hour energy. But because there were just enough afternoons when all three girls would fall into the kind of harmonious, "golden play" that should not be interrupted for something like sweeping the floor, I didn’t hold the routine firmly enough.

And finally, there is the defiance factor. Most of the time, I would describe Katherine as a very compliant child, but every once in a while, defiance kicks in. I would even venture to call it a mood rather than a personality trait (although if it is a personality trait, she surely got it from me). When Katherine is in a defiant mood, as soon as she is told to do something, she doesn’t want to do it, as though being told or reminded instantly deprives her of the autonomy she is craving. For example, if I ask her to fold the basket of socks (which is one of the chores she is expected to do three or so times a week), she’ll sit next to the basket not doing it until enough time has passed that when she does do it, it is because she decided to, not because I asked her to. Often setting a time limit (“Katherine, the socks need to be folded by dinnertime”) to indicate she needs to do the chore while still giving her some space and independence to get it done works well, but if she still doesn’t do it, then it becomes a battle. We’ve been having a lot of battles lately.

I'm pretty sure the daily chores work so well because we do them the same time every day - packing a lunch before school and wiping off the table after dinner are just part of the routine. But it's much harder when the chore varies from day to day. The woodbox needs to be filled when it is empty and socks need to be folded when laundry is done. These things usually happen 3-4 times a week, but there is too much variability (mainly due to weather) to set a day and time to do them.

I think the solution is to set a specific chore time each day - even if the chore itself varies. It’s been hard to accomplish this during the school year when we are juggling school schedules, time at home is limited (and sometimes filled with that "golden play"), and kids are tired, but school ends next week and long, open summer days will be the perfect time make chores a part of the daily routine. Maybe I can even use chore time to anchor our day, just as Ma did out on the prairie with her three girls (oh, to be a fly on the wall in Ma's cabin).

Hopefully we can work our way out of this unpleasant battle dynamic, and come September, I will have a cheerfully helpful, independent but not defiant, seven-year-old. And maybe, just maybe, in a few years, I will have kids who walk past the woodbox, see that it is empty, and take the initiative to fill it without my even asking...

One month, almost every day

Sat, 31 May 2014 23:50:35 -0400

Well, the month of writing here (or trying to) every day is over… as nice as it was to give some more time to this space, I think a more realistic goal is three or so times a week. Unless I somehow manage to get myself on that early schedule I keep talking about.

Only seven more days of school for the kids. I am very much looking forward to the open-ended days of summer with no school drop-off or pick-up. I've been making mental lists of all the things I want to accomplish once our days aren't chopped up by school schedules and carpools. But I should probably remember my word for the year - pace - and just focus on finding a rhythm that works, especially since I've never been home all day every day with all three kids!

Snail Snack

Thu, 29 May 2014 21:19:13 -0400

We just put our broccoli plants in the garden this week and already they are being devoured by snails.

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Normally, we rely on our chickens to deal with problems like this, but because we don’t want them to scratch up the seeds, they are in temporary confinement.

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I’ve heard of a few different solutions that “may or may not” work, but I wasn't sure the plants would survive another day of snails, so I decided to just remove them myself. Alexandra happily joined me when I told her we were preparing a snail snack for the chickens. We picked them off the plants and out of the soil and served them up in a dish.

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The chickens were delighted.

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Eight hours later the plants are still (pretty much) snail-free, but I bet they’ll be back by tomorrow morning. And as much as I loved collecting snails, I think I’ll get some copper mesh to put around the plants. Apparently the copper reacts with the snail slime and gives the snails a shock.

I’ll be glad when we can let the chickens roam again!

Garden Surprise

Tue, 27 May 2014 23:40:09 -0400

The previous owners of our house were wonderful gardeners, and in addition to the huge (overwhelmingly huge!) vegetable garden beds, they left us several flower gardens. We moved in mid-July last year, so we didn't get to see the spring flowers. Now that spring is finally here, we are experiencing what I call "Garden Surprise." Here are a few pictures… more to come!

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Milestone

Mon, 26 May 2014 23:09:22 -0400

I love biking…and way back when I used to ride my bike quite a bit. Then kids came along. I still managed to bike when it was just one, but couldn't really figure out how to do it with two little ones - especially in the city. But now we have miles and miles of lonely dirt roads AND two of the three kids can ride (i.e., go at a reasonable pace, move aside when a car is coming, and brake on the steep hills), and the third is still little enough to ride on the back of my bike. So today we went on our first family bike ride. A new era of family life.

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Rhubarb Pie Success

Sun, 25 May 2014 09:12:44 -0400

I found a rhubarb pie recipe online and it was delicious. In fact, it was so good that I made another one again the next day. We didn't eat it all ourselves - it's not chocolate cake, after all - we had lots of friends around to share it. But there is still some left, maybe it is a pie-for-breakfast kind of day.

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Despite the prediction for rain all weekend and the rainy start on Friday, yesterday ended up being quite nice - alternating rain and sun, rain and sun, sometimes both at the same time. So in addition to pie, we had a Saturday night bonfire. We never intended to make s'mores a weekly thing, but everyone loves it so much. There is something about sitting around a fire in the evening with kids running through the woods, sticky and happy.

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Today holds lawn mowing, pumpkin planting, wood chipping, a visit to a local farm, a mother-daughter bike ride if we can squeeze it in, and maybe more pie with friends.

Happy long weekend!

PS. I woke up this morning realizing that I forgot to post yesterday… I made it 24 days in a row, and then simply FORGOT! I'm going to just let it go. Dave's comment: FAIL! Try again next month.

Ha.

Around the Yard

Tue, 20 May 2014 20:18:02 -0400

I'm on a roll with pictures, so here are some from around the yard. Spring is in full bloom now and the garden is coming along. While we're at it, why don't we play a little round of "Which one of these pictures doesn't belong?"

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If you are a cup-half-empty kind of person, you might feel indignation at the sight of a burning wood stove in late May. If you are a cup-half-full kind of person, you might think, Hey! Best of both worlds: flowers in bloom and cozy fire!

Which one are you?

Photo Dump

Mon, 19 May 2014 22:11:02 -0400

I've been pretty lazy about posting pictures here, so I figure I'm due for a big old photo dump. Auntie M and cousin J visited this weekend, so I happen to have dozens of adorable kid pictures. As you'll see, the weekend was full of gardening (or rather, watering), biking, expanding the chicken coop (with a very patient Dave), walking in the woods, roasting hotdogs and marshmallows, and bedtime sillies.

Mom, this post is for YOU.

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Reverence

Sun, 18 May 2014 22:51:16 -0400

Earth who gives us all this food
Sun who makes it ripe and good
Dearest Earth and Dearest Sun
We will not forget what you have done.

I decided to try out an A.L.M. Writes prompt for today’s post, and for May 18th the word is “Reverence”. This word is timely for me. The concept of reverence has been on my mind, stemming mainly from a parent evening on the role of Christianity in Waldorf education.

I love Waldorf education – no need to go on and on about that here – and one of the aspects I love most is the thorough study of world religions, both historic and present. The curriculum does not provide a Christian religious education, but it was developed by a Christian philosopher, and the concept of reverence, especially for nature, is woven into all subject matter.

The question I have been turning over in my mind as I think about the role of religion in Waldorf education is, where is the line between reverence and worship? I am comfortable with reverence. I am not comfortable with worship.

Reverence is defined as deep respect for someone or something. Worship is the feeling or expression of reverence and adoration for a deity. So it seems to me that the underlying feeling or act of reverence and worship is the same, but in the case of worship, it is directed towards a deity.

What is a deity, then? In addition to the typical “god or goddess” definition, deity can also mean “one exalted or revered as supremely good or powerful”.

I don’t personify the sun, water or Earth, but I would categorize them as supremely good and powerful. They are good in the sense that they allow for life; yet they hold amazing power, both constructive and destructive. In other words, I find in them that same balance of good and evil that exists within every society… and every human.

Therefore, the fine line between reverence and worship hinges on whether the sun, for example, can be characterized as a deity.

I love the simplicity of the snack time verse our children brought home from school; it has also become our dinner blessing. We feel it is important to teach our children respect for nature and gratitude for all that we have.

But I’m not sure if our blessing is an expression of reverence or worship.

Settling in...

Sat, 17 May 2014 11:38:14 -0400

This month at VTmommies I write about the transition into settled life… Anyone else feeling this shift as well?

As the dust settles around our latest (and hopefully last for a long time) major life decision — moving to Vermont — it is hitting me that I have entered a new stage of life. It is no longer about forging a path, but rather, living the chosen path. This is it. This is our house. This is my family. This is my job. From here on out, any big changes will be unexpected, and if there is one, there is a good chance it will be unwelcomed. For the first time in my adult life, my life as it is now is what I hope it will be for many years.

Read the whole thing here!

Seasons Inside

Thu, 15 May 2014 23:56:47 -0400

I like to try to mark the changing seasons inside our home… nothing extravagant, just a few toys and books, and some nature items. Even though it is subtle, the kids notice and are now starting to ooh and ahh over the treasures that reappear for only a month or two each year. This year, especially, I found it refreshing - therapeutic, even - to pack away the winter objects and bring out the spring, even before spring actually got to us. A needed reminder that it was on its way.

Right now, we have this as our centerpiece,

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as well as my favorite flowers, of course.

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I try my best to stay on top of rotating the monthly poem from John Updike's, A Child's Calendar, although we had April's page well into May.

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And the seasonal table. It's a dark picture because the only time it looks neat and tidy is at night when no kids are around. These treasures get used for all sorts of things. This week, Alexandra has been packing them (and many other things) into the cooler and lugging it around on pretend picnics.

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I'd love to hear how you mark the seasons in your home!

Around the yard

Wed, 14 May 2014 23:17:24 -0400

I love "Around the Garden" posts, but since we're a bit late here as far as spring goes, more interesting than the empty (but prepared!) garden beds are the flowers around the yard.

Happy Spring… at last!

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Happy, bickering children

Tue, 13 May 2014 23:51:10 -0400

My kids have been fighting a lot lately. I blame it all on my mom, I’m pretty sure she’s been wishing fighting children on me since the days (years) I spent torturing my sister. Even if it isn’t actually my mom’s fault, it isn’t really any one kid’s fault either. Based on my observations, there are two typical scenarios.

One is when Clara tries to play with Katherine when Katherine doesn’t want to, usually because she is deeply involved in a complex, seven-year-old craft project. Upon being rejected, Clara starts teasing Katherine in a singsong voice: Katherine doesn’t like chocolate. Katherine, who LOVES chocolate and can’t bear the thought of anyone thinking otherwise about her, reacts in a loud screech: I DO love chocolate! Stop saying I don’t!! It just escalates from there, with the chocolate theme being quickly replaced by the poop theme, Katherine and Clara getting physical, and little Alexandra imitating all the bathroom words, delighted with the commotion.

The other scenario involves fighting over some common object, such as a stick. One kid wants the exact stick the other kid has. There is screaming, tugging, pushing, crying - over a stick that is exactly like the thousands of other sticks at their disposal. From my adult perspective, this is so ridiculous I almost can’t bear it. I have to remind myself that it is about the interaction, not the stick. They must really want, or even need, to fight. Maybe it is a developmental process they have to go through in order to learn the social skills they’ll need throughout life.

In the first scenario, I think my role is to help preserve Katherine’s space to do her own thing, by herself. After a full day of school, she needs some down time. Clara, who really wants to play with Katherine, needs a little redirecting. Perhaps an art project of her own.

In the second scenario, though, I think I should back off and not assume my role is to prevent the fighting, or try to impose my adult logic onto their developing kid logic. Besides, my logic seems to wash - unheard - right over them, (Me: “Kids! There are thousands of sticks right there! Why don’t you just find another one?” Them: blank look, followed by “No! I want that one! I had that one first!”)

So my new strategy is to step back and let the bickering run its course, staying just close enough to it to make sure no one is scared or getting hurt. Maybe if I give them space, they can find their way through and develop those social skills a little faster. Even if they don’t, it will probably be more pleasant for me to be on the sidelines rather than throwing myself into battle.

In addition to stepping back, I'm going to start focusing on the moments of harmony. It's easy to overlook how much fun they do have together. If I look at it objectively, I might find there really is a nice balance.

See? Two pictures of happy sisters right off the bat.

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TV-free week results

Mon, 12 May 2014 23:22:54 -0400

TV-free week is over. We made it through. I wondered if my productivity would increase given the extra time, but sadly, I have to say it didn't. I got about the same amount done each day and still stayed up just as late. I would say the same was true for Dave, and his office did not get cleaned and organized.

We also missed our end-of-the-day time together watching the characters in the teen dramas I love work out their complex life problems within 40 minutes. Instead, we spent it each at our own computer trying to catch up on work/email/writing/reading. Maybe to really get the benefit of TV-free evenings, we'd have to actually go computer-free. I'm not sure we could pull that off, though, since we are committed to keeping screens off while kids are around.

But maybe we can cut down to just a few nights of TV a week. It's all about balance, right? Besides, if I can get into the habit of getting into bed a little earlier on non-TV nights, maybe I'll manage to read more than two pages before falling asleep - and actually enjoy reading a whole, entire book for a change… Teen drama and chick-lit, of course.

Mother's Day Off

Sun, 11 May 2014 22:21:13 -0400

I think Mother's Day should be renamed Mother's Day Off. I am really grateful that I get to spend most days with my kids. But I have to admit, I struggle with the pressure to spend Mother's Day with my children. All week long people have been discussing their Mother's Day plans… Oh, we're going to brunch and then for a family bike ride… Every year we spend Mother's Day together in the garden, as a family… My kids are going to surprise me with a special outing… That all sounds lovely - mothers spending a delightful day basking in the presence of their children - but honestly, what would make the day really special would be to have time to myself.

I didn't feel this way last year; I remember wanting nothing more than to spend all day with my kids - but I was working full-time then. I can also imagine wanting to spend all day with them in a few years, when time together might be little rarer. But during these early years when I am home with them, a day off would be nice.

However, I have a hard time saying this to my family, especially when the kids are excited to make the day special. So we spent the morning working in the garden, then went to our local bakery for coffee and cookies, and headed to our favorite picnic spot for lunch. I did manage to break away for a bike ride by myself during rest time, and we finished up the afternoon working on the chicken coop. Dinner was a cookout over the bonfire, with roasted marshmallows for dessert (of course). The weather was perfect - another beautiful spring day.

Except for the bickering over a swing on our picnic (note: there were four swings and three children) that resulted in a four-year-old tantrum and made the day feel annoyingly like every other day, it really was a lovely day, even if it wasn't a day off.

And now, because tv-free week is OVER, I get to go watch T.V.

Happy Mother's Day!

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Around the neighborhood

Sat, 10 May 2014 09:00:00 -0400

Today I am sharing a few good reads from around the internet. Weekend reading, if you will. Enjoy!

In response to the article by Tal Fortgang, Kristen Howerton wrote an important post on the concept of White Privilege, what it actually means, and why we should take time to understand the concept. Here is an excerpt of her piece:

Being told to check your privilege has nothing to do with apologizing for being white. It has to do with being insensitive to the life experiences of others. “Check your empathy skills” might be a better phrase, but nonetheless, it’s not an attempt to shame someone’s race, but rather to point out that someone is refusing to acknowledge privilege differentials.

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Another interesting read is this piece about addiction to the internet (thanks to Shel for sharing it!). I don't consider myself an internet junkie, but I sure could relate to a few of Glennon's responses to the list of addiction warning sign questions. I will be thinking twice about the time spent at my computer. Here is an excerpt:

Are you preoccupied with the substance?

Yes. I feel fidgety and unfocused whether I’m with or away from my phone – I feel unable to be present in the moment.

After your involvement with the substance, do you feel badly about yourself?

Yes. After time on my internet/ social media accounts I often feel empty, competitive, anxious, icky, untethered, somehow “less than.”

Is your involvement with the substance negatively impacting your relationships with others?

Yes. I find myself tuning my children out to “check” my social media accounts. I often choose to scroll through strangers accounts rather than engage with my husband.

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And I am especially proud of this. We can and will improve gun safety in our state and our country. If you are local and want to learn more, let me know.

… a year-old group, called Gun Sense Vermont, has launched what will likely be the most well-organized, well-funded push yet for gun reform in this state. It’s the same group that was behind the passage of three gun-related charter changes in Burlington on Town Meeting Day. And the group’s president, a Brattleboro mother named Ann Braden, says Gun Sense will bring the same organizational prowess to passing legislation that gun-rights groups will bring to defeating it.

Hammock Time

Thu, 08 May 2014 23:59:00 -0400

Today was another beautiful day. I felt the pull to be outside all day, as though I’ve been severely deprived of warm sunny days for a long time and am fearful they will disappear again. Hmm.

Also, I am becoming slightly obsessed with the space that can no longer be called “apple tree clutter”. The more I clear, the more the vision evolves; it now includes a “nature playground” with tree stumps, a log balance beam, a rope or tire swing, some sort of monkey bar thing from one tree to another, and most definitely a mud kitchen. I have to remember to pace myself… this should all happen over the space of years, not days.

But I wasn’t going to write about the apple tree clutter space, or even the garden, today. I was going to write about a rare moment of doing nothing.

In the late afternoon, pretty much as soon as Dave got home from work, the fatigue of having been outside and busy all day caught up with me. Or perhaps that is when I allowed myself to acknowledge it. So I decided to take a minute to myself in the hammock. It was blissful… slowly rocking, blue sky through the green pine branches, birds chirping their early evening songs. I would have fallen asleep, except that it really was only a minute because that is how long it took the kids to realize I had escaped, come find me, and climb into the hammock with (on top of) me.

Hanging out in the hammock with three kids squirming and kicking and trying to get comfortable is not relaxing – there are a lot of feet in the face – but it was pleasant. That time (the minute without the kids and the minutes with the kids) was a good reminder to slow down and enjoy the season… in addition to getting stuff done.

Apple Tree Clutter

Wed, 07 May 2014 23:03:05 -0400

Today was one of those brilliantly sunny, magnificent spring days. The kind we have been waiting a very long time for. Plus it was a “stay-at-home” day for me, as opposed to a “work” or a “drive-kids-all-over-the-place” day. That meant as soon as we dropped the big kids off at school, and had our second breakfast (eggs for her, coffee for me), Alexandra and I spent all morning outside.

I was anxious to get to my list of weeding/clearing tasks. You saw the pictures of the half-weeded hoop house, the big old garden bed that I haven’t finished turning over, and the berry patches that need some tiding up since the chickens have been spreading the hay and leaves all over the place, right? Well, I didn't touch those. I made the mistake of wandering by the apple tree clutter, and once that was on my mind, the pull to work on it was too great to resist. I decided to treat myself to a little pruning before weeding. I figured I had all morning, so I’d still have time to get to the other stuff.

Of course I didn’t, though. My little pruning project turned into a vision of a shaded space among the trees, perfect for building forts and creating imaginary lands. This vision will take days of clipping, sawing, and hauling overgrown tree branches (Auntie M, don’t worry, I will save some for your next visit!), which means I barely made a dent in it this morning. By the time Clara was due home from school, I was completely worn out… and feeling a little guilty that I hadn’t even started on the higher priority tasks.

Luckily, Dave likes my vision, and I’m pretty sure his nod of approval means I should continue to work on it tomorrow.

Garden Tour

Tue, 06 May 2014 23:46:21 -0400

Yikes! It's 11:30 pm and I haven't posted yet today… so in desperation, how about a little picture tour of the garden-to-be, à la SouleMama?

(Not sure why the captions are in all caps, but now it is 11:45 and too late to try to figure it out)

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/a26e20bf3b.jpg" alt=" The big old garden bed that I have been slowly weeding and turning over.  ">  The big old garden bed that I have been slowly weeding and turning over.  [/caption] 



   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/dba9329c42.jpg" alt=" The half-weeded hoop house - with hardy spinach that spontaneously came back a few weeks ago. ">  The half-weeded hoop house - with hardy spinach that spontaneously came back a few weeks ago. [/caption] 



   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/0f74c4765f.jpg" alt=" The fort. Every garden needs a fort. ">  The fort. Every garden needs a fort. [/caption] 



   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/c2b7d3d3b1.jpg" alt=" Plum trees. Our hope is to add one or two trees to our " orchard every year.>  Plum trees. Our hope is to add one or two trees to our "orchard" every year.  [/caption] 



   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/03bd0ddf3c.jpg" alt=" In addition to a big old garden bed and hoop house, the previous owners left us three lovely berry patches: raspberry, blueberry, and strawberry. We moved in at the tail end of strawberry season last summer, so I'm very much looking forward to fresh strawberries this year. ">  In addition to a big old garden bed and hoop house, the previous owners left us three lovely berry patches: raspberry, blueberry, and strawberry. We moved in at the tail end of strawberry season last summer, so I'm very much looking forward to fresh strawberries this year. [/caption] 



   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/fd4f4d3ffe.jpg" alt=" Apple tree clutter - Once I finish weeding and turning over soil, I get to go back to pruning. I think I'll start here. ">  Apple tree clutter - Once I finish weeding and turning over soil, I get to go back to pruning. I think I'll start here. [/caption] 



   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/28eda63990.jpg" alt=" And, last but not least, the barn garden. Any day now this will be a patch of my all time favorites: daffodils. Then it will become the kids' garden space. Katherine wants to grow yellow peppers and pumpkins.  ">  And, last but not least, the barn garden. Any day now this will be a patch of my all time favorites: daffodils. Then it will become the kids' garden space. Katherine wants to grow yellow peppers and pumpkins.  [/caption]

Capability

Mon, 05 May 2014 23:12:19 -0400

Night one of TV-free week was uneventful. I didn’t get anything extra done and, surprisingly, I didn’t feel like I gained extra time. I did go to bed a little earlier, but I wasn’t any less tired this morning. It’s only day one, though. There’s still hope for increased productivity.

On another note, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the concept of capability, and I’ve come to the conclusion that children are far more capable than we give them credit for – or allow them to be.

Several weeks ago, Dave and I gave Katherine the weekly chore of waking up early on Sunday mornings to make pancake batter while Dave and I sleep in. We weren’t sure she’d be able to do it; it seemed like a lot to ask of a seven-year-old, but we figured we’d give it a try.

Well, she can do it, and it is by far her favorite chore, probably because we let her put chocolate chips in the batter, but also because it requires the most from her. Sweeping the kitchen floor is plain old work, but making pancakes for the whole family is a challenge and a big responsibility. She loves it. It is also an indication to us as parents that she is quite capable.

If she can make pancakes, then surely she can fill her own water bottle when she gets thirsty outside, and pour her own cereal and milk for breakfast, and put her clean clothes away, and the dozens of other things I tend to do for her without thinking about it because it is simply my habit to do so.

So now I’m starting to think twice when she (or Clara or Alexandra for that matter) makes a request or asks for my help. Is this really something she needs me to do for her? Surprisingly (or perhaps unsurprisingly), the answer is usually no. Slowly, we are shifting the habit of her asking and me doing to one of her taking the initiative to do it herself.

The shift has been slight so far, but I think we're both feeling a greater sense of freedom from it. It is also trickling down to the little sisters. Just the other day, Clara refilled her own and Alexandra’s glass of milk at breakfast without any prompting. A huge improvement over the typical “Mom! More milk please!”

I wonder what else they are capable of…

Screen-free Week

Sun, 04 May 2014 21:58:00 -0400

This week is screen-free week. I've heard people chatting about it here and there, and it is the topic of discussion at this month’s parent evening at the kids’ school. But other than that, it doesn’t really affect us since our kids don’t get any screen time as it is.

Dave and I, however, love watching TV. Yep, we make a point of depriving our children of any sort of electronic technology, and then we ourselves spend a good hour every evening zoning out in front of whatever pop culture has to offer – with teen dramas ranking among our (my) favorites. We may even qualify as binge-watchers when we stumble on a particularly riveting show. And by riveting, I mean the main character has long straight hair and a love interest. I can’t explain it, but watching someone with the hair I have always longer for fall in love with some near-perfect guy in a near-perfect world in which no one has to make grocery lists or sweep the floor is utterly relaxing.

But it is also a big old, mind-numbing waste of time.

So when Dave and I were going over one of our to-do lists today, we realized we’d never get to all of it… unless we cut down on our TV watching this week. As soon as the words were out, it occurred to us: screen-free week. Well, at least TV-free week since we both use our computers for work.

I’m not exactly excited about it. I look forward to this down time every evening. It is time to just sit still with Dave and take a break from reality, it pushes away the stresses of life, and it is easy, especially after a long day when we are both physically and mentally exhausted. I admit, I’ll miss it.

But I am curious to see how it affects our productivity. Will I get more done? Or will the usual amount of work just expand to fill up the time because I won’t actually have the energy to do more, even given an extra hour or two? Will Dave feel less overwhelmed by his to-do list? Will his office finally get cleaned and organized?

I guess we’ll find out.

Pruning and Weeding

Sat, 03 May 2014 21:31:24 -0400

I've never really been interested in gardening. I like the idea of growing food and I love a vase full of fresh flowers, but gardening has never been my thing. It is, however, Dave's thing. He carries our garden vision, and he has the knowledge and experience to actually make it happen. He says he'll need my help, though.

We've been making lists for months - long lists - of the work that needs to be done in order to prepare the garden. Order seeds. Prune the raspberry and blueberry bushes and the apple trees. Start seedlings. Trim the lilac bushes down to get our bedroom view of the marsh back. Turn over the soil. Dig in the mulch, leaves, and compost. Weed. Build trellises. Clean up the green house. Expand and close in the outdoor chicken coop. Transfer and plant seeds.

Over the winter, as Dave talked about the garden and the list grew, I wondered what my role in all of this would be. I discovered last fall that I love pruning trees. I mean, I really love it. In the same way that I get great satisfaction out of clearing clutter out of the house, I love clearing the tangle of excess branches and twigs off trees. So I volunteered to take on the raspberry and blueberry bushes, thinking that would be right up my alley. And it was. Well, I think it was - I guess we'll know for sure when we see how many berries we get.

Then, I took on the lilac bushes and the apple trees. I went into full-on pruning mode, climbing up high - one foot on the ladder, one foot balanced on a branch - perhaps going a bit overboard, until Dave gently suggested that maybe pruning is no longer the number one priority… and could I maybe get my "clearing" high from weeding, starting with the greenhouse? His seedlings are coming along and are just about ready to be transferred.

So yesterday I tackled the greenhouse. With Alexandra and Clara's "help", we cleared out the overgrowth of pansies, clovers, and dandelions. We pulled up the web of stubborn roots, turned over the soil, and raked it all smooth.

Turns out I love weeding as much as I love pruning, and I have found my role in this whole gardening thing. I am the clearer-outer. Maybe with time I'll grow to love the planting and growing part of gardening, but for now, I'm quite content keeping the space clear, tidy and clutter free.

One month, every day

Thu, 01 May 2014 10:42:07 -0400

The semester is this close to being done, which means my creative energy will soon be freed up and I can return to this neglected blog. I have a slightly unrealistic goal (challenge?) in mind… what if I were to write here every day for a month to try to get back into the swing of things. My friend Elaine does it every November for NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) and it's been in the back of my mind for a long time that I would like to try that too. November isn't a great month for me to commit to writing every day, but May just might be. It will be tricky to find time for it since the semester isn't actually over yet. But it is May 1st, and starting one month of writing every day should start on the first of the month, right?

Also, I've always been a write-and-revise and then let it sit for a few days kind of writer, so this write-every-day idea would mean I'd have to write and hit publish. I'm not quite sure what that will look like. I'll probably end up boring you with the mundane details of life with three (bickering) children, and there will surely be many posts on gardening as I throw myself into our first attempt to grow a garden full of food. But here goes.

Write and hit publish.

Night Owl

Wed, 16 Apr 2014 19:55:52 -0400

A Tale of Two Mornings

5:30: Wake up without the aid of an alarm clock because I naturally wake up at this time every morning

5:35: Hit the "brew" button on the fancy espresso maker

5:40: Settle in at my desk with a hot latte, complete with steamed milk. Catch up on email as I gaze out the dormer window, enjoying the view of the meadow as the first rays of sunlight hit the hills in the distance

6:00- 7:00: Go for a nice long run and then shower without children barging in and out of the bathroom

7:00: Wake kids and start the morning routine, refreshed from a full hour to myself

In reality, I curse the alarm clock as it bleeps relentlessly at 6:30am, hit snooze and hide under the covers until I absolutely have to get up at 7:00am. Then I painfully drag myself out of bed, dreading the cold—although, I feel just as grumpy about mornings in summertime. Also, there is no fancy espresso machine or dormer overlooking the meadow.

I wish I were a morning person, but I’m drawn to the night hours. I take advantage of the late, quiet hours to write, bake, organize, read, sip tea, and generally enjoy time to myself; all of the things that are hard to do during the day. I happily – and easily – stay up past midnight, undeterred by the impending misery of morning. The open-endedness of night offers a great sense of freedom. The knowledge that the time spanning out in front of me will surely outlast my productivity is a big advantage over the morning hours, when I am all too aware that a kid could (and often does) wake up at any moment, interrupting whatever I had hoped to do.

I can get up early. I’ve done it before. In high school I eagerly bounced out of bed at 5:30am in order to play tennis. It was all I cared about and I would have done anything for an extra hour on the court. The other time was the final six months of grad school, when I worked frantically to finish my dissertation. I’m not sure I really slept at all during those months, so getting out of bed to get back to my computer was more of a relief than lying in bed in the permanent state of anxiety I seemed to be in when I wasn’t working.

These two experiences triggered a super-human – but unsustainable – energy. Unfortunately, unlike a sports passion or graduation deadline, taking care of three small children seems to suck energy rather than inspire it. As much as I love my kids, the thought of waking, dressing and feeding them every morning does not drive me out of bed.

Nevertheless, I want to try to change. Our family is in the midst of a major schedule shift due to two new jobs having started, and it would be very convenient for everyone, particularly my husband, Dave, if I could magically become a morning person. Of course if I did get up at 5:30am, I would not be sipping my coffee as the sun popped up over the hills (or playing tennis or sitting down at my computer to write). Instead I would be emptying the ashes from the woodstove and restarting the fire, feeding and watering the chickens, scraping the ice off the car, making school lunches, and preparing breakfast.

But still, it would be nice if I got up earlier and less cranky to help ease the morning madness. In order to do this, I will have to go to bed earlier.

It will be a challenge to let go of my late night quiet time. I look forward to those hours all day. However chaotic and difficult the day of juggling work and three children may be, the prospect of sitting down alone at my computer while brownies bake gets me through. I need that time, perhaps not every night, but at least on a regular basis.

Therefore, if I do make this move to become a morning person, I’ll have to replace my late-night freedom. As long as I’m getting up early, I could carve out a chunk of time on weekend mornings. It wouldn’t be the peaceful quiet of night hours, but with Dave home, I could sit down alone at my computer, or go for a nice long run, and maybe even shower without children barging in and out of the bathroom. I could start the week feeling refreshed from having had time to myself.

Come summer, when school is out and the morning madness eases up, I can resort back to my natural schedule. Until then, to face early mornings, which will be difficult regardless of an earlier bedtime, maybe we should get that fancy espresso machine.

Spring Play

Thu, 10 Apr 2014 10:11:25 -0400

We have finally made it beyond slipping around the icy patch of driveway on bitter cold days. Sunshine + a (hopefully) temporary lake in the yard + leftover snow + thawed ground in a warm greenhouse = hours of afternoon fun for all three kids together. We are done with the late afternoon bickering that has nearly driven me out of my mind. I can open the door and out they go - with the ability to move around the yard and play. Today they enjoyed mud cupcakes, decorated with white snow icing and pansies.

Winter is over. And guess what? All three kids fell asleep quickly and easily!

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Spring forward…three weeks later

Wed, 02 Apr 2014 14:08:55 -0400

A few months ago I griped about the Fall-back time change. The early afternoon darkness exacerbated the witching hour and it took us many weeks to readjust our routine. Today, I am going to gripe about Spring-forward… yes, we are still feeling the effects of the time change.

The wonderful, early bedtime that we finally achieved in order to cope with Fall-back has been compromised. When it was dark at 5pm, it could be whatever time Dave and I said it was. 5:57? Bedtime! With the darkness backing us up, the kids had no way to prove us wrong (especially since they can't tell time). But now Katherine and Clara eye us suspiciously as we try to convince them at 6:30 that it is already past their bedtime, and Alexandra pulls up the window shade as if to show us it is clearly not bedtime. It’s fun to listen to them chatter away and sing each other lullabies until their room is dark enough that they’re able to give in to their exhaustion, but by then it really is past their bedtime.

On top of the too-late bedtime problem, the extra hour of evening light also means we’ve lost our morning light. I rely on morning light to get them out of bed. Like me, they are not morning people, except on Sundays and school holidays, when they consistently wake up on their own at 6:30am. On school days, if it is dark out, they don’t want to get up – even with a 5:57pm bedtime. During the winter months, I have to drag them out of bed. We were just getting to the point of enough morning light that 7am wasn’t torture for them. Now Spring-forward has set us back again.

I know this problem will resolve itself as the days get longer and the weather gets better. Kids who spend hours outside running free, climbing trees, and riding bikes are exhausted by 5:57pm no matter how bright it is; kids who are sick and tired of slipping around on an icy driveway and sinking into three feet of old, dirty snow in 12-degree weather are not. But for these weeks in between Spring Forward and better weather, the time change is brutal.

Unemployment

Wed, 12 Mar 2014 21:00:09 -0400

Unemployment

This has been the year of transition, most of it good, but some of it downright difficult. For many years my husband, Dave, and I shared the role of working-parent and stay-at-home parent. Looking back, I realize what a privileged set-up that was. Dave worked three longs days, I worked two long days, and we each had full days at home with the kids. We also worked evenings and weekends to keep up with our respective workloads, which meant we barely had time for each other. But we agreed it was worth it in exchange for the time we had with our young children and the money we saved on childcare expenses.

When we decided to leave D.C. in order to raise our kids in rural Vermont, Dave left his job to stay home with the kids and I began telecommuting full-time. Being the sole working parent was challenging for me, but we gained a much more balanced family life. We no longer had to constantly juggle schedules based on whose meetings were deemed more important on a given day. Weekends were open for gardening, long walks, or just lazing around, and Dave and I had evenings to ourselves.

Then my job ended. Suddenly, we were two unemployed parents. Of course the main concern was financial. How long could we last on savings? What would we do without health insurance? Would we have to move again, or even worse, move in with one of our parents? It took a lot of energy to keep the panic at bay. But most of the time, we were able to maintain our faith that we would find a way to make it work. The real challenge was that we were both at home. All day. Every day.

The first several weeks of our unemployment were great as we focused on the silver lining. We reveled in our free time and made list after list of projects we could accomplish around the house while we regrouped. But as reality set in, free time was devoted to job hunting and we went into a budget freeze; there would be no home improvement without any income. We felt aimless and unproductive. Not knowing how long our unemployment would last, we hesitated to make long-term plans or take on new commitments. We struggled to create a daily routine that worked for both of us.

While Dave and I are extremely compatible, we discovered during those months of unemployment that without purpose or structure (beyond feeding, clothing and transporting small children), we get in each other’s way. My typical afternoon at home with the kids involves getting everyone settled for their quiet time as quickly as possible after lunch, and then jumping right into prepping for dinner, checking email, and finally, if time allows, sitting down with a cup of tea to read my favorite blogs before the baby wakes up.

When Dave is also home, however, he has a habit of emerging from the office as soon as I start in on my rest-time routine. He wanders into the kitchen to get milk out of the refrigerator just as I need to get to the cheese. Then he moves over to the counter to lean against the silverware drawer, waiting for coffee to brew… and blocking my access to the spatula. Even after he returns to his desk, he’ll wander back to the kitchen minutes later to run his latest Amazon order by me, unaware of the fact that I am desperately trying to focus on the next step of the recipe before the sautéing onions burn. My frustration spikes and I snap, “I don’t care about a bulk order of laundry detergent and peanut butter - I just want to get dinner made. BY MYSELF!” Turns out I need my quiet time as much as the kids do.

Under normal circumstances – such as one or both of us working – Dave’s calm demeanor is a perfect match for my more intense energy. He keeps me grounded and gives me perspective. I welcome the change of pace on weekend afternoons when we relax with our coffee by the woodstove. But when Dave wanders in and out of my routine every day, our natural balance feels more like a clash.

Perhaps we would have eventually found our groove, though I imagine the stress of long-term unemployment would have made that difficult. Fortunately, jobs did turn up and we are both working again. The balance has been restored. I get to power through making dinner - uninterrupted - on my afternoons at home and Dave can enjoy his coffee break in peace. We discuss Amazon orders in the evenings. The silver lining of unemployment definitely wasn’t the freedom of both of us at home. Instead, it was gaining an appreciation for having work – not just for the obvious financial component – but for the structure and independence it allows both of us each day.

Allowance

Wed, 05 Mar 2014 23:42:25 -0400

I’ve always had mixed feelings about giving kids an allowance. On the one hand, I like the idea of teaching them the value of money, the concept of saving, and the satisfaction of being able to purchase something they really want… and the occasional post-purchase regret when they realize maybe they didn’t really want that thing after all. On the other hand, I don’t like the idea of paying my children to do household chores. I’d rather everyone in the family help out around the house simply because that is part of being a family and sharing a home.

Katherine is seven now and she has several friends who earn an allowance. We’ve also been having some trouble getting her to help out around the house without a fair amount of whining (her) and nagging (us). So we decided to come up with a compromise. Katherine now has a list of chores she has to do each week that she doesn’t get paid for – basic things like clearing the table after dinner, laying out her school clothes, packing her lunch, etc. If she is able to complete those without the whining or nagging, then she can opt to do several additional chores in order to earn an allowance. She has a nice little picture chart on the fridge and she moves magnets onto the tasks she’s completed. At the end of the week we can see what she’s done.

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In case you can't read it, that last one is “Make Pancakes.” One morning Katherine woke up early and made pancake batter (popping into our bedroom to ask us for the exact measurements along the way). We decided to see if we could get that to happen on a weekly basis.

Katherine was so excited by the prospect of having her own money that she made a list of things she planned to buy before we even began the first week of chores. At the top of the list was an American Doll, followed by a Rainbow Loom. To give her a little perspective, we stopped in the toy store to price these items, and then figured out how long she would have to save her allowance in order to buy them (allotting for 1/3 that will go into her long-term savings and 1/3 that will go to help someone in need). She’s decided she’d rather let Santa bring her an American Doll (we’ll burst that bubble another time), and she’ll save for the Rainbow rubber bands and forgo the actual loom. She should be getting her rubber bands around mid-May.

Old fashioned play

Thu, 27 Feb 2014 09:45:47 -0400

My sister sent me an article on play last week. The information in the article isn’t anything I haven't read before, but it is always interesting to see the growing evidence for the importance of imaginitive play.

Here is a brief summary of the article:

About 50 years ago, with the advent of toy advertising, children’s play suddenly began to change. Fueled in part by the mass production of increasingly specific toys (or, what I call “one trick pony toys”), play began to focus on things rather than activity, and imaginative play began to diminish. My personal favorite example that illustrates this point is the shiny red toy fire engine with sirens and flashing lights that can only be a fire engine. A shoebox with a stick jammed into, however, can be a fire engine with a ladder one minute, a sled for dolls the next, or whatever other prop the children need depending on where their imagination takes them. As the author so eloquently summarizes, the specific toys and predetermined scripts for play “shrink the size of children’s imaginative space.”

In addition to the influence of the toy industry, early education now focuses on academic achievement tests rather than allowing time and space for social and imaginative play; and at home, parents are creating increasingly structured schedules filled with adult-directed activities, leaving children with little or no time for independent, imaginative play.

Without imaginative play, children do not develop executive function skills, a component of which is the ability to self-regulate. Self-regulation is responsible for controlling one’s behavior and emotions, resisting impulses, paying attention, implementing self-discipline, etc. Imaginative play provides children with the opportunity to practice (primarily through private speech and self-policing), and thus develop, self-regulation. Not surprisingly, research shows that children’s executive function ability was better seventy years ago than it is today.

I understand why the toy industry continues to produce billions of crappy toys (that’s capitalism, after all), but why is there such a disconnect between the information in this article (and hundreds of other articles and books that all say the same thing) and current educational and social trends? What will it take to convince society that the best way to promote cognitive development in young children is to just let them play?

TWO!

Mon, 17 Feb 2014 23:25:28 -0400

Alexandra turned two this week. When Katherine and Clara each turned two, it was a big event. I poured over beautiful wooden toy catalogues to find a gift they would treasure. I made and painstakingly decorated a cake. I bought balloons and planned a special day. We paused our usual routine to celebrate their birthdays. After all, “two” holds many milestones: the switch to counting in years rather than months; the end of diapers; the start of speaking in sentences; and the equally endearing and exasperating “No! Do it own self!” Two marks the last of the baby days and the beginning of little people days.

I looked forward to this move into childhood for Katherine and Clara. But for Alexandra, I put her second birthday out of my mind. On a few occasions, someone mentioned her approaching birthday (a grandparent looking for gift ideas, a friend asking if we had plans for a party) and it startled me. What? Two? Who’s turning two? Oh… Alexandra, right. I knew that. Then I’d push the thought away, reminding myself I still had time left with my one-year-old. But when the day before her birthday arrived, I had still done nothing to prepare. I didn’t even have ingredients for her cake – and I always have ingredients for a cake (you never know when you might need cake).

It’s not that I don’t look forward to a new stage of life with my children. Family skiing, all-day hikes, and afternoon outings without the fallout from ‘no nap’ are on the horizon. We are almost at the point when all three kids can pee by themselves and tie their shoes… A new era of family fun - and freedom - is opening up. I’m just not sure I’m ready for these early years to be over, even if what is to come will be just as wonderful, if not better.

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But Alexandra’s birthday arrived and there was no getting around it. Luckily, thoughtful gifts from relatives, sibling-made decorations, and a chocolate cake, albeit last minute, covered up my reluctance to acknowledge this birthday. And while I didn’t spend hours searching for that perfect gift (besides, what could a two-year-old with two older sisters possibly need or want?), I did take five minutes to pop into the local toy store to purchase a pink tutu (what two-year-old doesn’t need or want a pink tutu?). Alexandra was quite pleased with it all.

Happy Birthday baby girl!

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Balancing the Wish List

Sun, 09 Feb 2014 15:47:52 -0400

Balancing the Wish List

Usually, I’m the queen of “less is more” and firmly believe the path to happiness is less stuff. My husband, Dave, and I have always been a no-dryer-one-small-car-no-microwave kind of family. My kids each get one drawer in the three-drawer dresser they share. Anything that piles up is deemed clutter and has to go. Our minimalist mentality – as harsh as it may seem - was a necessity during the first ten years of our relationship. With little money and a tiny city apartment, we simply couldn’t have a lot of stuff. But now that we live in a house that has closets and a basement, our minimalism is optional and I suddenly find myself making list after list of things I want, including the dreaded second, bigger, car.

A year ago, I’d nix the wishes on the wish list before they even made their way onto paper. Any offers from friends that started with a “We have an extra…” were met with a resounding “No, thanks.” My mom finally accepted that gifts to us should be perishable, preferably in the form of chocolate or coffee. Now, not only are my wishes going down on the wish list, the fulfillment of one simply triggers the next.

This cycle started out naturally enough when the whirlwind of moving twice within a year put us in a high-energy mode that didn’t shut off when we finally landed in our empty, new-to-us house this summer. Bursting with ideas on how to turn this house into our home, we refocused our energy on settling in. First it was major cleaning projects to clear out spider webs and scrub away the previous owners’ grime. Then we turned to standard purchases, like a child-gate for around the wood stove and gardening tools, having never had either a wood stove or a garden. From there, little home improvement projects sprouted up in every room: curtains here, better lighting there, replace the rotting window frame, put up a screen door… Now, I find myself in the habit of walking from room to room and only seeing things I want to fix, change, or buy. But the wish list extends beyond home improvement. My excitement for snow season has triggered a whole slew of new wants: cross-country skis, after all, the ski trail is right across the road; snow shoes for my seven year old; oh, and what if we made an ice rink in our backyard, the kids would love it! Before long, I’ve wasted an hour researching backyard ice rinks and have made out a list of materials we’ll need for it, including ice skates for all three kids. We won’t actually do it because we’re on a tight budget, but I’ll want it.

I don’t think wanting is necessarily a bad thing. After all, the absence of want, also called hope in some cases, is a symptom of depression. Wanting is healthy, and it can inspire creativity and resourcefulness. We don’t want to spend money on curtains, but I can figure out how to make new ones from old ones, and my children get to watch me struggle through the process of measuring, piecing together fabric, and sewing straight hems. When I proudly hang the slightly lopsided curtains, my oldest asks if she can make something using the sewing machine. Christmas lights, not fancy track lights, now brighten our kitchen – it looks a bit funny now that the holidays are over, but I can see while I chop vegetables.

But an endless wanting of stuff clashes with my minimalist values, and I worry that my infinite wish list is preventing me from enjoying what I already have. Instead of appreciating our new home in the country, I fret about how to manage carpooling with one small car and three children. The warped window frames overshadow the beautiful view from the sun porch, and I look past the 160-year-old wooden beamed ceilings and all the history they carry.

Perhaps I need to figure out that balance of simply living in our home as it is, and planning – pacing – changes over the next twenty years. After all, we hope to be here at least that long, so what’s the rush? Adding bit by bit will make it sweeter than hurrying to reach the end state as soon as possible. The kids will enjoy a backyard ice rink just as much, if not more, in five years. Besides, they are perfectly content with sledding this year, and I can be too.

But a second, bigger car? Well, some things may fall into the necessity category that we give in to sooner rather than later.

Green House

Wed, 05 Feb 2014 15:42:05 -0400

As we wait in the bitter cold temperatures for winter to really start (you know, with that big dump of snow I'm always hoping for), I decided to check out what was going on in the greenhouse. Well, it wasn't warm in there, but it wasn't frigid cold, and it smelled like fresh earth - a total contrast to the stark, empty smell of ice and snow. I usually don't mind the sharp winter air, especially on sunny days when everything seems to glitter, but that little reminder that spring is close, just tucked under the old crunchy snow, was very reassuring.

It also occurred to me that a certain little sister would love to dig in all that dirt. The snow can be tough for little fingers trapped in bulky mittens, especially when big sister playmates are off building sledding jumps and cross country skiing around the yard. And with little sister's birthday coming up… perhaps a winter mud party in the greenhouse?

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Cold

Wed, 22 Jan 2014 11:21:39 -0400

"There is no such thing as poor weather, just poor dressing." I've been reminding myself of this a lot lately, especially with days on end of 33 degrees and icy rain, and now -20 degrees plus an even colder windchill. That's pretty close to what I would call "poor weather", if there were such a thing.

My kids don't really care. They're happy to slip and slide on the sheet of ice that used to be our yard and driveway, and getting soaked and/or frozen gives them a strong case for hot cocoa - with marshmallows - when they come in. I like to think I don't mind the cold either. Long underwear, warm socks, hand and foot warmers, and my mom's 40-year-old down coat that I took over years ago usually keep me warm. But only if I stay moving, as in a very brisk (bordering on jog) snowshoe through the woods. Standing around outside while my almost two-year-old trudges along at .2 miles per hour, as cute as it is, does not keep me warm. So for myself, I've been choosing inside over outside.

Of course, it's cold inside too. The kids have been scraping ice off the insides of their bedroom windows each morning. I've come very close to giving the wood stove a big hug, it is so inviting. And coffee has become more than a once-a-day caffeine friend. It is a major source of warmth. I suppose there is no reason I can't have both of these things outside too. Standing around a winter bonfire with thermos in hand might actually be quite pleasant… But then again, look at Alfred cat. I'm pretty sure he's saying I should give up this crazy talk of going outside and curl up next to him for a while.

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Pace

Thu, 16 Jan 2014 08:43:23 -0400

A lot of people start out the New Year with a word in mind; something along the lines of a resolution or theme for the year. This year I'm going to play along… and my word is pace. As in, I'm going to focus on pacing myself. A typical Type A personality, I have a habit of taking on more than I can handle, and then taking great pleasure out of organizing everything into a carefully crafted albeit logistically complex schedule that tends to leave me feeling overwhelmed.

I know from experience that it isn't realistic to limit what I take on - I could never choose what to cut out even if I tried - but I can try to pace myself. I'm not quite sure what pacing myself looks like yet, but I'm hoping that if I keep the word in mind, I'll figure it out. As I work on the first 'carefully crafted complex schedule' of the season, which involves juggling new jobs, more volunteer work, extra writing, home improvement projects, and preserving time for outdoor activities (snow shoeing!), I think the first step is to realize that I don't have to do everything all at the same time. In other words, one thing at a time...

Choosing chores over children

Thu, 09 Jan 2014 12:29:12 -0400

Sometimes I Choose Chores

“Will you sit and knit with me, Mama?” my seven-year-old asks. A request to melt any mama’s heart. Yet I reply with a list of morning chores I have to do, trying to keep my tone neutral so as not to also say, “See how much work I have? See how hard my life is?” The dirty cloth diaper needs to be rinsed out – the sooner the better. The breakfast dishes are piled on the counter, soggy cereal drying to the sides of the bowls. It will be annoying to have to scrape it off later when I can just rinse them out now. Crumbs are everywhere on the floor – if I don’t sweep, the mice will come. I have a small window to get it all done after one meal and before the next, especially since a large percentage of that time will be spent changing (more) diapers, wiping butts, helping with sips of water, tying on capes, and kissing bumps and scrapes.

“Help me sweep the floor,” I say to Katherine, “then I’ll be finished sooner and we’ll have time to knit.” She frowns, “I don’t want to sweep.” Not wanting to engage in a battle over sweeping by holding her to my request, I let it go, shrugging. She hovers around me as I go about cleaning up, like a puppy underfoot. My mind drifts to Ma in the Laura Ingalls Wilder books. We’re reading On the Banks of Plum Creek at bedtime and the story is fresh in my mind. I am intrigued by the strong rhythm of their daily chores, children who help without being asked, the simplicity of survival on the harsh prairie.

I don’t long to milk a cow at dawn, or polish the stove, or do the laundry by hand, day after day after day. The combination of obligation and monotony would not outweigh the benefits of its simplicity, at least not for me. But there is something to be said for a routine that never waivers, and upon which survival depends. If I don’t clean the poopy diaper or rinse out the dishes first thing in the morning, scalding hot water and anti-bacterial soap will kill whatever grows in the meantime. Therefore, it is easy to feel the guilt of pushing my children aside. I don’t really need to do the dishes right now, but I sort of wish I did.

All the slogans about choosing laughter over squeaky-clean floors and messy kitchens being happy kitchens let us off the hook. Choose your children over household duties. There will always be laundry, but your toddler will grow up. I don’t disagree - but what if I want to do the dishes and put things away? Piles of stuff distract me and I function better all around when my surroundings are sparse. So I’m torn between wanting to do household chores and cherishing every moment of my daughters’ one-, four-, and seven-year-oldness.

But just the other day, I had a rare morning alone with Katherine thanks to a dual play date for her two sisters. “Knit with me,” she implored as soon as they were out the door. I surveyed the mess and sighed. “Let me clean up, then we’ll knit. We’ll have time,” I promised. She scampered off to her room and I powered through the chores, in total, uninterrupted, quiet. Twenty minutes later she reappeared. “I neatened my room, Mom. Are you ready to knit?” I was.

It dawned on me, as I snuggled down on the couch with her, as promised, that I am still in the throes of early childhood, when needs run high, interruptions are constant, and just underneath the surface of all their cuteness, my kids can be exasperating. But my morning alone with Katherine was a reality check, a glimpse of what the future will be with children who can wipe their own butts, get their own drink of water, and tie on their own dress-up clothes.

Maybe I’ll make it through without Ma’s strict cleaning schedule. Or maybe that wouldn’t help anyway. After all, Ma only had one small room to keep clean and could fit all of the family’s possessions in a covered wagon. Besides, for all we know, she may have been just as exasperated as I am, and that sentiment simply isn’t captured in the books because it was written by her child.

Regardless, I’m hanging onto hope that one day my three daughters and I will happily knit together by the fire. In the meantime, to give myself permission to do chores, I may paint across my kitchen wall: Clear counters keep me calm.

Puzzles and Pie

Sun, 05 Jan 2014 16:10:28 -0400

On this last Sunday before it all starts up again, I decided it was a pie-for-breakfast kind of day. So as soon as the kids excused themselves from the table and settled in with a bunch of puzzles by the fire, I served myself a piece of spicy pumpkin pie. We didn’t end up having pumpkin pie on Christmas because someone forgot to tell someone else to buy evaporated milk, so I’ve been waiting for the right moment to make it. Of course any old day is a good day for pie, but the end of winter break – a lovely two weeks of lazy mornings, no school drop-offs or pick-ups, and pjs all day – seemed like just right time. So pumpkin pie for breakfast it was.

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One by one the girls noticed the pie and migrated back to the table for a sliver of their own, and Dave and I gave in to “second coffee”, which we try to limit to special occasions. Like pie-for-breakfast day.

It was a lovely, peaceful morning with perfect children and a perfect breakfast.

But in the interest of keeping it real, I should report that our lovely, peaceful morning of perfect children and perfect breakfast dissolved by about 9:30am, before we had even finished second-coffee. Little sister stealing big sister’s puzzle pieces, big sister excluding middle sister, middle sister taking over big sister’s space, flying puzzle pieces and tears… I guess it was just what we parents needed to ramp up our energy and face the end of break. I would even say we are now looking forward to the school routine tomorrow.

On the plus side, their bickering gave me the long-awaited opportunity to implement the “We get along” shirt (thanks for the idea, Jenn!). The punishment is that they have to wear the shirt for as long as it takes for them to figure out how to have fun together. I wouldn’t say it was a huge success, but it did stop puzzle pieces from flying.

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Happy back to school!

Cookies!

Sat, 21 Dec 2013 21:01:16 -0400

I know I say every holiday tradition is my favorite, but yesterday my favorite holiday tradition arrived in the mail: my aunt and uncle's box of homemade Christmas cookies.

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Every year, my aunt and uncle send cookies to relatives and friends. Judging by the number of nieces, nephews, and siblings alone, they must fill at least two dozen boxes. They also make ten different kinds of cookies - and not your plain old sugar cookies, but gourmet cookies like hazelnut biscotti, pfeffermusse, and my all-time favorites, springerele and pecan tassies. And then, they mail them out, which always impresses me since I never go to the post office, preferring to let packages and letters sit for months until the recipient ends up visiting us or the letter becomes moot and I write a new one. So I have great respect for people who actually go to the post office.

We have decided to share the cookies with our children this year. We haven't always, as we think it is best for a child to show a certain appreciation for fine cookies before allowing them to partake in this holiday tradition. But Katherine and Clara, who got to taste a few last year showed the appropriate anticipation and respect when the box arrived this year, so they may now join in. We'll see about Alexandra.

These two

Tue, 17 Dec 2013 21:07:23 -0400

Last week, I had a day at home with Clara and Alexandra. With Katherine off at school and no plans on the calendar, we had the morning to ourselves. A nice break from our usual school-day chaos, I envisioned a leisurely breakfast and then a nice walk through the woods. A little sunshine, some very cold fresh air, and the joy of hauling two kids through the woods on a sled because in all likelihood they wouldn't be able to walk through the deep snow… I couldn't wait. I'd been longing to get into the woods all week.

But Clara and Alexandra had other plans… it is their one morning at home together, the one morning they don't have to get dressed or all bundled to go outside, and they just wanted to stay inside and play. After all, there is so much to do…

like snuggling in Alexandra's bed with books,

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then turning it into a crib fort,

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and bopping balloons that Dave hung from the ceiling,

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then building a couch fort,

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and of course, sitting by the fire to keep warm.

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I didn't get my walk in the woods, but these two clearly enjoyed their indoor morning at home.

Remembering.

Fri, 13 Dec 2013 08:16:32 -0400

The Conspiracy Game

Wed, 11 Dec 2013 09:59:47 -0400

“To inspire a new generation with the thrill of space travel, a young adult novel that adults can also enjoy. The first in a trilogy.”

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Today I have the honor of posting an interview with Adam Holt, author of The Conspiracy Game.

I know Adam from another lifetime, from what I now call the “under-just-grad” days, when we had just graduated from college and were setting our path towards adulthood. We worked in the same educational center, and even though we only worked together for a few months, I remember many of our conversations quite clearly. Adam is one of those inherently wise people who really listens to what other people have to say, making it possible to have meaningful discussions despite fundamental differences in belief or opinion - a rare treasure in life. He is also the kind of person who inspires thought and self-reflection through the way he leads his life, the questions he asks, and now, the book he has written. It has been great to reconnect with Adam and get a chance to hear what he has to say about The Conspiracy Game!

Your book, The Conspiracy Game, came out December 4. Can you tell us a little about it?

Yes. First, The Conspiracy Game and I share a birthday (December 4), so that was a great present this year. In The Conspiracy Game, 14-year-old Tully Harper recounts his first adventure in space. Tired of his dad's near-death experiences on Mars and inspired by a strange vision, Tully sneaks on board his dad's spaceship and begins the adventure of a lifetime. His best friends, Tabitha and Sunjay, accompany him on this trip, which will change the fate of the solar system. It's the first in a science fiction trilogy.

The style is accessible enough for young adults, but the story seems to appeal to adults. My readers tell me it's funny and meaningful. They'd better be telling us the truth.

Tully sneaks aboard the space shuttle without his dad father's knowing. What kind of challenges does Tully face in his relationship with his dad?

First of all, he's fourteen years old. It's a natural challenge for adolescence--they're subjected to so much change, and so are their relationships with their parents. For Tully, that's compounded by the fact that he is withholding some enormous secrets from his father, his only parent. He loves and respects his dad but finds himself caught in the midst of secrets and lies. I remember some of those episodes in my own adolescence.

I know that faith is a, or perhaps, the driving force in your life. How has your faith influenced your story?

My faith in Jesus Christ underpins the things I do, whether writing, reading, or teaching. Faith has a powerful thematic impact on the story, though it's not always intentional. Many of The Conspiracy Game's themes are drawn from my life experiences with my faith: learning to love someone in difficult situations; forgiving yourself, your friends, even your enemies; trusting your parents' wisdom; trusting your childrens' insights; sacrificing for those you love.

Also, Jesus was an amazing storyteller. He told wonderful parables, such as the prodigal son or the dishonest steward, and then gave his listeners some room to debate over their meanings. We're still debating thousands of years later, and the better for it. I love that about him, and I wanted to tell a story that captivated my readers with some important, deep truths, but left open some big questions. If you read the novel, you will see this happen between Tully and the Harper Device.

Your protagonist is a 14-year-old boy. What inspired you to tell a story about this often difficult time of life from the perspective of the child?

Adolescence is just built for storytelling because there's such daily upheaval. For a writer, the protagonist can have the best and worst day of his/her life in a six hour period, and that's good for moving a story along fluidly. That certainly happens to Tully, and those experiences shape him noticeably by the end. His motivations shift from a fear of losing his father to a desire to help his father succeed at any cost. I love that shift in responsibility that comes at this age, particularly when circumstances make teenagers take on a larger role in their families.

Some of my students made that transition when their families went through tough times, and I always admired them for it. At the same time, many of them were getting braces, falling in love, and watching ridiculous Youtube videos for fun. It's such an interesting slice of life.

Tell us a little about the setting of the novel - outer space. What does the landscape of outer space add to the story?

Great question. I want my readers to appreciate and understand that magnificent landscape. Space is a beautiful place where you can float weightlessly and stare into a field of a billion, breathtaking stars. It's also a place where a paint chip flying through space at 15,000 miles per hour could crack that window and end your life in a split second. It's a beautiful, rugged, surprising landscape.

But part of traveling away from the Earth is looking back. I love this thought from Neil DeGrasse-Tyson: "We went to the Moon and discovered the Earth." Tully experiences such a moment as well, where he appreciates the lovely blue gem that we call home. The perspective of space travel often gives astronauts that sense of just how connected we are to one another, and how valuable and delicate our entire civilization is.

How has Tully evolved as a character from your conception of him to his adventures in this novel?

I developed the idea of a teen space explorer first, and then envisioned what kind of person he might be. If he wanted to sneak into space, he would need to be clever and curious like Harry Potter or Odysseus.

However, he also needed deep motivation to travel into space. After all, Tully puts his life and his friends' lives on the line to go into space. Why would someone do that? Once I began to develop Tully's backstory, it became clear. Tully is from a single-parent home, and the minute I discovered that, his motivation to stay near his dad, who he deeply reveres and fears losing, told me how he would react in most every situation.

Will we get to read more about Tully in the future?

I couldn't give up on him or his friends now! Things just got interesting. He'll be returning in book two, The Rathmore Chaos, though I can't disclose his location. The Conspiracy Game introduces characters that will play central roles in the coming series, which covers more ground in our near solar system.

Is there anything else you would like us to know about either your novel or your experience writing it?

I gave up a great teaching job to write this series, and it felt terribly risky at the time; however, it has been so rewarding. If I find myself teaching ten years from now, I can imagine sitting in my classroom and saying, "Boy, I'm glad I took that risk. Tully Harper was worth it." But I could not imagine it the other way around--sitting in that classroom and saying, "Well, I'm glad that I stuck with this job and never tried to write those Tully Harper novels." Life is too short to leave opportunities on the table.

The world is a better place when we make the most of our skills and opportunities. When they have a sense of purpose, humans do amazing things, like feed the hungry and send people to the Moon...or at least dream up ways to inspire others to do those great things.

The Conspiracy Game is available at createspace, and you can contact Adam on twitter @adamholtwrites with any questions about the novel. Adam is available for speaking engagements--in person or virtual--to discuss the writing/publishing process, human space exploration, and run writing workshops. You can also follow his writing and travel adventures at adamholtwrites.blogspot.com and on Facebook at facebook.com/theconspiracygame.

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Give-away winners & a few gift ideas

Mon, 09 Dec 2013 12:32:16 -0400

Congratulations to Erica, Kim, and Elaine, the winners of one of Natasha's beautiful placemats.

Last year I posted about a few books and toys that make wonderful holiday gifts. I haven't thought much about gifts this year since we are going practical, with things like long underwear, mittens, and lunch boxes. But Santa will bring a few small "fun" treasures...

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Advent spiral & ornaments
Everyone has a favorite advent tradition - glittery paper calendars with windows to open, pockets with little surprises for each day leading up to Christmas, advent candles... We always have a glittery calendar (I love glitter) and it is great motivation for kids to get ready in the morning ("Girls who are dressed with teeth brushed can open their window!"), but we also love our advent spiral. It is a simple tradition of moving a candle around the spiral. If we are feeling extravagant, we'll put in 25 candles on Christmas Day and the entire spiral will glow. The kids spend a lot of time moving their ornaments around and counting the days until Christmas. Each year, Santa brings a new advent ornament.

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Books
Alexandra's book of choice these days is I Want My Hat Back, by Jon Klassen, who also illustrated one of our all time favorites, Extra Yarn. I Want My Hat Back is a story of a bear looking for his missing hat - with a twist at the end that adults will appreciate. Excellent artwork, of course.

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For those of you with kids in the young adult bracket, check out The Conspiracy Game. It was just released last week and the author, Adam Holt, is a phenomenal writer. I had the opportunity to interview him about his book and will be posting that on Wednesday!

Crafts
I'm not really one for crafts since I have no crafting ability and no patience to help kids with any form of organized project. So my strategy is to put out a few supplies and walk away. A few weeks ago we bought a box of 1000 craft sticks to boost another order up into the "free shipping" category. Huge success. All three kids have spent hours and hours creating little log houses, towers, piles glued together or to paper, dream catchers, and Christmas tree ornaments. A few sticks, some glue and paper and they are off - and they can do it without my help.

What favorite toys, books, crafts do you recommend for holiday gifts? Please share!

Lights in Winter

Wed, 04 Dec 2013 22:06:03 -0400

Growing up, my family celebrated both Christmas and Hanukkah, and I loved being half Catholic - half Jewish. But over the years, I became more "neither" than "both".

Lights of Winter

My childhood memories of the holiday season are warm and bright, filled with the excitement of presents and celebration. I was extra lucky because my family celebrated both Christmas and Hanukkah. Being half-Catholic and half-Jewish set me apart and earned me the admiration of my slightly envious peers. The Santa crowd marveled at the eight days of gifts (not realizing my Hanukkah gifts typically comprised dental floss, pencils, and Scotch tape), and the Menorah crowd was curious about the logistics of Santa. I had gingerbread house-making play dates and could hold my own in dreidel games. For a few weeks out of the year, I took great pride in being “both.”

As I grew older, I began to understand that Christmas and Hanukkah were about far more than presents. The stories of both religions held my family history, and I felt connected to both sides, revering the traditions of all my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. My pride shifted away from the quantity of presents, and towards the quality of my parents’ marriage as a testament of how the two religions could come together.

But in junior high, personal commitments to one’s religion began. My Jewish peers were Bar Mitzvah-ed, my Christian peers were confirmed. Now it was no longer just about family tradition and history but also about belief and faith.

Furthermore, my parents, who had been happy to indulge in the winter holiday celebrations, were not all that interested in joining either of the religious organizations that had, as I later discovered, refused to acknowledge their marriage years earlier. My pride wavered and, unable to choose one over the other, I lost my status of being "both." I became "neither." Still, we continued to celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah in our home, and I grew to love the celebrations for the light and warmth they brought to the dark months.

Over the years, I let the Jewish traditions go without thinking much about them. By the time I had children, I found it felt more natural to implement my Christian traditions than my Jewish ones. But last year when my sister and I were reminiscing about our family menorah, she was surprised that we don’t celebrate Hanukkah at all: “Don’t you want to share our family’s history with your children?”

This simple question triggered something: a longing, a sadness, something, though I’m not quite sure what. Perhaps I had a little too carelessly forgone an important component of my childhood. Judaism, just as much as Christianity, is a part of my past, my parents’ relationship, and the long history of both sides of my family. I suddenly wanted it back.

But how do I bring back my family tradition when I no longer feel Jewish? Do I even have the right to observe the Jewish holidays at this point? Is it ok to hold onto the tradition when I was not raised with the religious belief? These are questions I ask myself, and I am not sure of the answers. But I am beginning to feel a desire, a responsibility, to share this history with my children.

Perhaps I will start slowly. We will read books that tell the story of Hanukkah. I will share the traditions of my childhood. We will light the candles of our family menorah and say the blessing. And my children will receive dental floss, pencils and Scotch tape as gifts, just as my sister and I did when we were little.

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Give-away!

Mon, 02 Dec 2013 10:25:40 -0400

Welcome to the second annual placemat giveaway!

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Natasha has created a beautiful and fun world of gnomes and painted it onto placemats. Everyone who passes by our table admires them, and my kids never tire of examining the details of the underground scenes, complete with trains, swings, slides, poles and ladders. I love the placemats because they are easy to clean and, three years later, they are still as good as new.

This year, we are offering a placemat to three winners. To enter, leave a comment by Sunday, December 8th. We'll randomly select and announce the winners on Monday, December 9th.

Happy December!

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If you would like to place your own order, you can email Natasha at: tashebe79 at yahoo dot com.

Pogo sticks and strings

Sat, 30 Nov 2013 15:59:59 -0400

Happy Birthday to my seven-year-old!

A few weeks ago I posted about Katherine’s request for a pogo stick, and finding that balance between keeping things practical and giving in to a birthday wish. Well, we gave in (Jill, it was your comment that convinced us) and Katherine is now a proud pogo-owner. She loves it, and it turns out you can pogo in the snow and in the dark, which will come in very handy over the next few months. If I had known that, it would have fallen into the practical category and there wouldn't have been any discussion about whether or not to get it for her!

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Katherine is also deeply absorbed in cat’s cradle, and was hoping for (and received) a string game book. Last night she happily got into her bed on her own while Dave and I finished bath and books with her sisters. That has never happened before. Thank you, string games (and Grandma!). Then this morning, I found her awake in her bed before her sisters woke up (which has never, ever, ever happened before) working on… string games. She has mastered the tortoise shell.

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And then there was cake. An extra big cake. This year we tried out paper decorations on top instead of frosting and candy decorations. We had fun with paper doll snowmen, and Dave and I were pleased to have all the extra sugary crap that we had tucked away (just in case) for ourselves. Win win.

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Katherine agreed it was a good day and is happy to finally be seven. Happy birthday sweet girl!

Fall Back

Thu, 21 Nov 2013 09:38:47 -0400

In the past, the “Fall Back” time change has been welcomed in our home. Not just because of the extra hour we gain, but because it magically resets the kids’ bedtime, which has a tendency to creep later and later every night. I don't want to place blame, but one parent allows bath time go on and on, gets suckered into one more story, one more sip of water, and one more song ("a really long song!"), and before we know it, seven o’clock is eight o’clock and The Ants Go Marching (all ten of them) is stuck in everyone's head for a week. Unfortunately, the other parent’s brisk and heartless one-story-one-kiss-one-pat-lights-out-not-another-word-or-else routine isn’t enough to hold it at seven o’clock. Probably because the kids request the sucker parent most of the time.

Then daylight savings comes and we’re back on track. While other parents dread the disruption to the daily schedule and complain of kids waking up at the new 5am, we enjoy longer evenings to ourselves with pleasant mornings of kids waking up on their own instead of our having to drag them out of bed at 7:10.

But this year has been different. Bedtime and wake-up have never been better, as expected, but daylight savings has destroyed our afternoons.

Late afternoon is already the trickiest part of the day for us. Alexandra wakes up from her nap and is ready to go outside. Clara is excited to play with her sisters after having endured quiet time all alone in her room, and is especially happy to see that Katherine is home from school. Katherine, who has held herself together in her usual, radiant and well-behaved fashion all day at school, is exhausted and needs down time to, let’s just say, “recharge her kindness”. She doesn’t want to be with anyone, least of all, eager Clara.

After struggling with this dynamic for the first two months of the school year, we finally figured out a carefully coordinated rotation of inside-outside time that met everyone’s needs and got us through from after school to dinner. I’d even say it was enjoyable. Then the time changed, it’s dark by 4:30, and the afternoon is grim again.

We’ve come up with some strategies to help adjust to the change: dinner is now at 5:15 instead of 6, jump roping is allowed in the kitchen, kids are granted access to the art supplies willy nilly (including the glitter on really rough days), before dinner lantern walks around the yard are a special treat for well-behaved children, and one parent gently encourages the other parent to stay on a tighter – and earlier – bedtime schedule (read: takes over at the first sign of delay). There’s no way we (I) would make it from 4:30-8pm every day, but 4:30-6:30 is manageable.

We're working our way back to enjoyable and I think we'll get there soon. Hopefully before we Spring Forward.

How does the time change affect your routine? How do you deal with the early darkness?

Mood Resolution

Mon, 18 Nov 2013 11:38:10 -0400

A few weeks ago I attended a workshop on conflict resolution. The goal of the session was to introduce parents to a structured format of working through conflict in a non-judgmental, non-punitive way. I admit I didn’t really want to attend, having been through several of these types of trainings over the years and not really feeling like I had the energy to tape mock identities to my forehead for role-plays about bullies and nerds. But I felt pressure to attend from the mass of flyer and email announcements, and the buzz about it from other parents sparked a sliver of hope that this workshop would offer something fresh and new. Plus, with free childcare, I really didn’t have any excuse. But as I sat down in the circle of other parents, I couldn’t help but regret having given up what could have been an afternoon to myself.

I participated in the workshop nonetheless. There were no bully-nerd role-plays; instead we provided examples of conflicts we’d recently experienced to work through in small groups. The time our neighbors wouldn’t turn down their music. Then we identified our emotions with “feeling cards”, angry, frustrated, disappointed, and linked them to our needs that weren’t met, support, shared reality, understanding. We provided feedback to each other on how to word an offense in a neutral, non-accusatory way. When the music is loud, I feel frustrated because my children can’t sleep. I played along half-heartedly while the parents around me appeared enlightened by the concept of identifying the true source of the conflict.

After the workshop, a friend asked if I had enjoyed it. I shrugged and mentioned it wasn’t really new information, and made some vague comment about having heard all of this before. She nodded and said, “Well, it’s always good to hear it again”. This friend obviously had a good attitude. I, obviously, did not, and at home, I complained to my husband that I didn’t get anything out of the workshop.

But of course that wasn’t actually true. Over the past few weeks, snippets from the workshop have snuck into my mind, not in moments of conflict, but in moments of general dissatisfaction. Like on those days when my late afternoon plan unravels in the face of tantrums and bickering, and my cup of tea, already twice reheated, sits un-sipped on the counter. The snippet hints, as if mocking me, Hmm, it looks like you are frustrated that you don’t even get ten minutes of uninterrupted time for a cup of tea... Or when my irritation suddenly spikes for no good reason, say, at the sight of the pile of crap that’s been sitting on the table for a week. The snippet taunts, Gee, I wonder what need isn’t being met; longing for a tidy and organized space, are you? At first I ignored the snippets, grumpily giving up on my tea and cursing the pile of crap on the table. But in the background, I’ve started to realize this annoying little voice in my head might actually carry some wisdom. Maybe the workshop wasn’t just about identifying emotions and needs during my children’s conflicts. Maybe I could use the information to work on bettering my mood. Mood resolution.

It’s pretty easy to identify frustration and impatience as the core “bad mood” mom emotions, and I can easily rattle off a whole list of unmet needs, as could any other mom, with lack of sleep at the top. But when I push past the superficial needs (I mean, everyone - kids or no kids - could probably claim sleep as an unmet need), the one thing I cherish but never, ever get anymore is time alone at home. I can add up an hour’s worth of time to myself if I count the six-mile drive to school for drop-off and pick-up and the occasional twenty-minute walk at lunch. But those moments borrowed against the usual routine are nothing compared to the liberation of being alone in an empty house for a good, long stretch of time. Time to wander through the rooms in their quiet stillness. Time to put things where they belong without little hands taking out other things à la Sisyphus. Time to not be needed by anyone.

Hey, look at that, the snippet applauds, you’ve identified the unmet need that is the source of your poor mood! Enlightening.

Of course I don’t see any way to meet this need for at least the next two years, and the workshop, unfortunately, didn’t cover how to deal with unmeet-able needs. But maybe simple awareness is a good start. It’s already easier to curb my frustration when I admit the mess itself isn’t really the issue, and that in a few years I will get to sip my tea while it’s still hot.

Winter Garden

Wed, 13 Nov 2013 14:43:35 -0400

In the winter garden, through the falling snow
Stars are gleaming, streaming, gleaming,
Down to earth below.

I'm not sure who wrote this (Nancy Foster?), but we used to sing it it Katherine's class and it has been in my head all day... and in the back of my mind I've been trying to figure out what to do with our garden before winter.

The family who lived in this house before us left a beautiful flower garden, and as recently as last week, we filled a vase with the last of the fall flowers. But after several nights in the teens, the green has finally turned to brown. Except for the pansies. They are a hardy bunch.

I've been asking friends what they do to their flower gardens in the winter, and everyone has a slightly different answer. I guess it is a personal decision: some like to cut down all the stalks, neat and tidy; others have very specific plans - straw covering for this, leaf covering for that, cut this down, leave that standing - depending on the plant; and a few simply do nothing. I sort of assumed I would fall in the neat and tidy camp (seemed like a nice middle ground that wouldn't require too much thinking on my part), so this afternoon I went out with my clippers to get things in order. I cut a few things here and there, but found myself hesitating.

As I hummed the Winter Garden song, I realized I wanted some sort of reminder of what was here all summer. Plus, the crunchy brown stalks are interesting in their own way. I bet they'll look quite nice in the first snow, before they are buried under what I hope will be many feet of snow (hey, if it's going to be cold and grey, then I want snow!)

So for now I'm going to leave the flower gardens as they are and see what happens.

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And then it snowed! So here is how it looks in that first snow.

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Role Reversal

Mon, 11 Nov 2013 15:13:37 -0400

This past year has been an interesting one... wonderful because we made it to Vermont and love it here, and challenging because getting here meant a lot of changes. Probably the biggest change was my becoming the working parent and Dave becoming the stay-at-home dad. I haven't written much about that side of life, but here is an essay I wrote about our role reversal.

Role Reversal

When my husband, Dave, and I were in the Peace Corps, planning our future together, he warned me he had no idea what he wanted to do when he grew up. I replied with certainty, “That’s fine, I plan to get a high paying job so you can do whatever you want.” Then I ended up going back to school for nearly ten years.

I tried out that high paying job when we first returned to the U.S., but I only lasted nine months before I couldn’t stand making one more dentist appointment for my slimy boss. I decided at that point I would never again work for someone who thought he was superior; I applied to grad to school in hopes of getting out of having a real job for as long as possible (while promising Dave I would be done in two years and then get a high paying job I would like, in Vermont).

The reality of our post-Peace Corps plan was that Dave supported me through grad school and we had three children. I did end up getting a job, but mostly I was home with the kids, and we hadn’t made it to Vermont. We were still living in D.C. when our oldest daughter reached kindergarten last year, Dave and I decided it was time to move; we wanted to be in our final landing spot before she started first grade. So we both asked our respective bosses if we could telecommute. Dave’s said no. Mine said yes. Turns out that was all we needed and within a few months, we left our lovely city neighborhood of nearly ten years and moved to rural Vermont. I became the full-time working parent and sole breadwinner, and Dave became the stay-at-home Dad. Finally, I had come through on my promise. I had the high (relatively speaking) paying job, and Dave was free to figure out what he really wanted to do.

This role reversal has been an adjustment. I used to know all the details about the kids’ day: what they liked for snack, whose knee got scraped, who napped and who had a meltdown. Now when I come home from work I feel like my arrival is disrupting a scene I wasn’t written into. I sit down to draw with my six-year-old, not knowing she has been asked to put her books away three times and still hasn’t done it. I brush past my four-year-old to listen to a phone message, not knowing she’s been waiting for me by the door for thirty minutes. I cut my one-year-old’s quiche into bite-size pieces and then feel admonished when Dave tells me she hasn’t needed her food cut for weeks now. I feel out of sync with my children and admit to myself it would be easier to work late than to come home early. The guilt of this realization sits heavily on the weight of responsibility, and I have to fight the urge to throw up my hands and snap, “I guess I’m just not the mom anymore!”

It’s difficult for Dave, too, to be home all day with the kids and the monotony of daily household chores that never amount to any final product of accomplishment. Finding chunks of time to focus on a new career takes creative energy that he doesn’t always have after a day at home with three young children.

But the reversal has also been as enlightening as it has been challenging. For one, I am beginning to understand that having to work and getting to work are two very different things. I like my work slightly less knowing I don’t have a choice, but take greater pride in it knowing its value to the family.

Finding guilt-free time for myself is also far more difficult than I expected. It was easy to head out the door for a run when Dave came home from work; after all, he hadn’t seen the kids all day and would surely be grateful for an hour alone with them while I took a little break. Now, slipping out for a run not only adds an hour to Dave’s already long day, but takes away an hour from my already limited time with the kids. The time-at-home disparity of a one-working-parent set-up does not favor personal time for the working parent, a concept I didn’t grasp when I wasn’t the one working.

However, the piece I never fully appreciated is the responsibility the sole working parent carries. Everything is wrapped up in my job – our income, our health insurance, our retirement, and even our vacation schedule. I didn’t give Dave nearly enough credit for the burden he carried for all those years.

It still comes up in conversation every so often, my early promise of a high paying job. For years it was a question Dave asked in jest, “Tell me again, when are you going to get that high paying job you promised?” Now the conversation about that promise, which we have both fulfilled for each other, carries a deeper understanding and mutual respect for the other’s role in the family.

Halloween

Mon, 04 Nov 2013 16:14:41 -0400

As I sit here by the woodstove, eating my children’s Halloween candy and sorting through pictures of their costumes to send to the grandparents, I can’t help but think how much I love Halloween.

There has been a lot of discussion among parents over the past few weeks about Halloween traditions, and surprisingly, many parents expressed their dislike of the holiday, claiming that the focus on super heroes, princesses, and candy pretty much represents the worst of our consumer-based, corn syrup-soaked society. Of course other parents countered that they love the creativity that goes into making costumes and the joy their children get out of carving pumpkins, dressing up and trick-or-treating.

But the most interesting conversation I had about Halloween was with one of Katherine’s teachers. He noted the duality that exists in humans – the animalistic, gluttonous side and the kind, virtuous side – is mirrored in this holiday, with Halloween representing avarice and All Saints’ Day representing morality. This is the same duality we see in literature throughout history: the struggle between the wicked and pure characters that portrays every individual's inner struggle between good and bad, right and wrong.

In many countries, All Hallows’ Eve is nothing more than the night before the true holiday, All Saints’ Day. In Poland, and probably many European countries, families spend All Saints’ Day decorating graves with flowers and candles, and return at dusk to walk through the cemetery. When I lived in Poland I joined my friends in this tradition, and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a more beautiful, peaceful sight. The entire cemetery glowed with thousands of candles as people walked the paths quietly and thoughtfully. Catching glimpses of the writing on the gravestones in the twinkling light, wondering about the woman who had lived to be 80, or the child who had lived to be 2 over a hundred years ago, helped put day-to-day life in perspective. The words that come to mind when I think of that experience are peace, warmth, and comfort. The celebration of All Saints' Day meets the virtuous inclination of humans.

In contrast, Halloween in the U.S., with the overload of candy, certainly gives in to the gluttonous side of human nature. We would probably do well to tone down Halloween (as I unwrap my fourth candy bar…) and balance it out with a reverent celebration of All Saints' Day.

But still, I love Halloween: the decorations, the costumes, the pumpkins, the candy... and even though I find the concept of duality fascinating, the part I love the most is the way we let go of our fear (which is no small feat in our fear-based society) and not only open our door to the whole community, but send our kids out to collect treats from complete strangers. It is a day of mutual understanding that everyone is welcome to join. I think that is pretty awesome.

Finally, a picture for the grandparents.

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Mrs. was my Mom

Wed, 23 Oct 2013 07:29:15 -0400

I admit to feeling a bit prickly when my six-year-old’s friends casually call me “Karen”. My initial reaction is to haughtily ask them if they don’t mean “Mrs. Vatz”, but then an even stronger aversion kicks in and stops me. I am not Mrs. Vatz. That was my mom, and she was much older then than I am now... Actually, she was several years younger than I am now. But still, “Mrs.” sounds so old, so outdated, and I don’t relate to that title at all.

When I was a kid, we all called our friends’ parents “Mr.” and “Mrs.”, just as my parents’ did when they were kids. In fact, my dad still refers to his boyhood friend’s mom with the title “Mrs.” The formality between a child and an adult was a pretty stable cultural norm. But now, I don’t know any kids who use “Mrs.” and “Mr.”, other than to address their schoolteachers. It seems that norm has dissolved, leaving an awkward lack of formality where there should be at least something to indicate a difference in age and social rank between children and adults.

This new norm – or lack thereof – is difficult for me as a mom. It feels too formal to insist my children use “Mrs.” and “Mr.” – I know I don’t want to be addressed that way. But I’m not comfortable having my four- and six-year-old call adults by their first name. I want some degree of respect embedded in my children’s speech towards other adults. Beyond a marker of respect, using some sort of title establishes that the adult is a responsible being with whom a child can simply be a child. In other words, a title offers a sense of authority that I think children find reassuring. I also think children, at least my children, appreciate the distance it establishes, as though it relieves them of the pressure to hold their own socially with adults before they are ready. But perhaps I am reading too much into it, or perhaps I am just more traditional that I thought.

Still, I find myself searching for a contemporary alternative to “Mrs.” and “Mr.” At first glance, the “Miss + first name” option seems like a nice middle ground. I could accept being “Miss. Karen”, and my kids would be comfortable calling my friends “Miss. ____”. However, I’ve found the population to be split on this – with half my friends embracing it as the right balance of casual-formal, and the other half deeming it a lame pseudo-formality that comes across as too “pre-school”. Therefore, I’ve ruled out that option; it’s just too confusing for me – let alone for my kids – to remember who prefers “Miss” and who doesn’t.

So for now, and as long as our society is lacking a widely-accepted title for children to use when addressing adults in their life, I am forced into a too casual norm, with the first-name basis being the least awkward option. But I’m not entirely happy with it.

What do you have your children call other adults? Do you agree that no title is too casual? Or are you comfortable - even happy- with this norm? I'd love to hear how others feel about it!

Guiding Exceptional Parents

Tue, 15 Oct 2013 07:00:00 -0400

A friend and colleague of mine, Sarah, works with parents of children with special needs. Because the work Sarah does is so important and because she does it so well, I would like to share with you a little about her and her services. She is a wonderful resource, and as you'll see below, she is passionate about working with exceptional families. You can also check out her website at Guiding Exceptional Parents.

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Tell us a little about your business.

I support families in two related ways: (1) Care coordination for children with special needs (especially learning disabilities, ADHD, and autism; I'm also an expert in helping twice exceptional kids who are both gifted and learning disabled), and (2) as a Relationship Development Intervention (RDI) consultant.

The goal of the care coordination is to help families to appropriately set their priorities and to give them the tools they need to get the best possible support and care for their child.

RDI is an individualized training program that helps parents learn how their child's mind works. By working closely with the family, I can help parents learn how to create meaningful learning opportunities in everyday situations so their children can acquire the social-emotional skills fundamental to making and maintaining meaningful relationships.

How did you come to start your business?

I have two kids with learning disabilities. When our oldest son's kindergarten teacher first told us "something was up" with him, we had no idea what to do. We got a neuropsychological evaluation, but were at a loss regarding how to follow up and find good clinicians to work with him. We didn't understand how to prioritize. We didn't realize that the fix would not be quick. And there was no one to help us do these things. Each person had their own view of the world - the speech language pathologist was worried about our son's language and lack of social skills, the developmental pediatrician was worried about his ADHD and his executive functioning, the physical therapist was worried about his motor coordination.

Which was most important? What treatments were actually effective? Which were a waste of money and time? How should we evaluate?

Having navigated all this for two children now, I want to make sure that no parents feel as lost as my husband and I did with our oldest son. I have the knowledge and resources to help others; I want to put it to good use!

One of the the therapies we did with our kids that was incredibly effective at restoring a more normal family dynamic was RDI. It helped us so much, I decided to get certified so I could help other families.

What do you hope to bring to your clients?

A deep understanding of how the schools work, what therapeutic options are available, what works, and how to evaluate a new approach. I can help parents who are wondering about their child who seems "different" - by determining how to help them figure out their child, or, if they have a diagnosis, by pointing them to effective therapies and clinicians. My approach is family-centered; my goal is to help family members learn how support and nurture each other.

My goal is to teach parents the skills they need to navigate the medical, educational, and social systems effectively so they no longer need my support. Education and knowledge are power - I can provide parents with the resources they need to support themselves.

What is your favorite part about your job?

Many parents are confused, lost, and scared when they first seek my help. Many are in crisis. I love watching these amazing people grow as they learn how to help their children, and how to effectively navigate the system. The most rewarding part, by far, is when I realize that these parents who were once so lost now have the confidence and knowledge to help others.

What do you envision for your business in the future?

There are "Elder Care Coordinators", but there's no equivalent position for a person who can help coordinate care for kids with learning disabilities and other special needs. I would love to start a revolution, so parents everywhere would know that there's someone who can help them coordinate their care across all domains - medical, educational, and social.

What inspires you?

The amazing richness of life.

Do you have anything you would like to share with us?

How about a few of my favorite quotes:

- You can't boil the ocean. (A reminder that you can't fix everything at once.)

- I'm not responsible for the outcome, only my effort. (Marsha Mandel)

- You can't make a flower grow by pulling on it. (Marsha Mandel)

- Never attribute to malice that which can be attributed to ignorance.

- We are all doing the best we can with what we have.

- I can only control myself.

- I'm responsible for my efforts, not the result.

- You can't argue with a thunderstorm.

[Please note that this is not a sponsored post; I am sharing this interview because I believe Sarah is a great resource!]

Leaf Maze

Tue, 08 Oct 2013 21:22:09 -0400

At bedtime the big sisters often ask for a story about when I was a little girl. I try to make the stories seasonal, so in the fall I tell them about a leaf maze my mom once made...

...When I was a little girl we had a long driveway that we shared with our neighbors. In front of our house, the driveway was narrow, but back behind the house, it widened into a large circular space to accommodate the two garages at the end. A huge oak tree stood between the two garages. Most of the time we used this space to play basketball, hit tennis balls against the garage, roller skate (which once resulted in a broken arm, but that is another story), and bike ride. But one fall, my mom raked all the leaves that fell onto the driveway into a maze. My sister and I, and all the neighborhood kids, had a great fun in the maze. Every night I worried that my dad would ruin it when he backed out to go to work in the morning, or that the wind would blow it all away. But it lasted for days, matted down by rain and tidied with a rake from time to time...

I can't remember if my mom created a maze every year and the memories all melded into one great experience, or if it really was just one magical maze. Either way, Katherine and Clara love that story, and this year we finally have a yard, lots of leaves, and a functional rake (a non-functional rake, in case you are wondering, is a child-size rake that looks cute in the store but is inefficient and results in a terrible back ache).

So this week, as our maple tree drops her lovely yellow leaves, we are raking up a maze.

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Balance

Wed, 02 Oct 2013 07:45:52 -0400

The crappy-wonderful balance of my insignificant, first-world existence has been thrown off. My Facebook status feed confirms it. Usually Facebook provides a nice perspective on the balance of good and bad, in fact, I have come to rely on the predictability of this balance... a new mom bringing home her baby, a layoff, a birthday celebration filled with friends and family, the loss of a loved one, a beautiful fall family hike, a broken into car. But yesterday was a crappy day for a lot of people, and crappy update after crappy update rolled in on my status feed. Having lived in DC for ten years, the government shutdown affects a lot of my friends and colleagues. So does the sequester. Today will be just as crappy, and tomorrow too. It may be crappy for a long time.

To balance it out a bit, I am trying to focus on a few little things that have made me happy this week. It's not much, but it does create a picture of warmth and happiness that will have to balance out the crap as best it can.

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A child's painting project. I love all the paintbrushes lined up.

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Every year we make an autumn mobile, this year Katherine joined me. I love the colors and the fact that they usually stay up well into May.

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Our first fire in the wood stove. It wasn't quite cold enough, but we were ready.

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My first apple pie (usually my baking endeavors involve chocolate, but I'm branching out). I've been asking people for their recipe for weeks, but everyone says, "Oh, I just add a little bit of this and a little bit of that..." , so that is what this is, a little bit of this and that, and it is (was) delicious. But I guess you can't really go wrong with a buttery crust, apples, cinnamon, and allspice.

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Sisters getting along, collecting leaves.

If you have happy, beautiful moments or stories, please link to them in the comments. I know a lot of people could use the balance right now!

Screen time - can it be a good thing?

Wed, 25 Sep 2013 23:08:43 -0400

Screen time tends to be a sensitive topic that often leaves parents feeling defensive. Please note that I do not mention whether we do or do not allow screen time for our children, or if we do, what kind or how much. This post is not meant to address or judge any individual situation; rather, I am interested in exploring the topic of screen time at a more global level, and reflect on my own observations in hopes of articulating my concern about the impact of screen time on children.

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Recently, my friend posted a link on Facebook to this article. It is a short piece in which Susan Linn argues that screen time deprives kids of the opportunity to be creative, which is detrimental to development. Here is an excerpt that captures the main point:

A commercialized, screen-saturated culture deprives children of what’s essential to creativity: time, space and silence. Children constantly bombarded with stimulation are so busy reacting that they never learn how to generate. Instantaneous access to an endless array of videos, television, apps and games may stave off boredom. But those stretches of having “nothing to do” are exactly what foster the creative intersection of children’s inner world and their immediate surroundings.

As with everything, there is a range of tolerance among parents when it comes to screen time. There are, of course, the two extremes – those who prohibit any screen time and those who allow a free-for-all, but most parents fall somewhere in the middle, acknowledging that screen time generally isn’t good for young children, but still allowing it in moderation due to the reality of our culture.

For example, it is pretty common for kids to watch TV here and there so the parents can take a shower in the morning, respond to an important work email, make a few quick phone calls, or prepare dinner late in the afternoon. The TV/Computer/iPhone is the perfect babysitter – it is available on demand, captivating, and free. In other words, it is a sure thing - parents can do what they need to do, knowing their kids are occupied and safe. On a day-to-day basis, it doesn’t seem like such a bad thing, to allow a little screen time in order to get things done, especially if parents are conscientious about what they allow their children to watch. Many TV shows are gentle, benign stories, and there are hundreds of educational apps that teach kids about music, nature, math, art, reading, etc. In other words, the content isn’t detrimental in any way. In fact, in the comments section of Linn’s article, some argue that screen time may even be beneficial, and that technology not only allows for creativity, but also allows for better learning.

So, assuming screen time occurs in moderation and parents carefully select screen-based activities that are age appropriate and educational, can screen time be a good thing? I think it is necessary to look at (a) what the child is getting out of screen time, (b) what the child isn’t getting out of screen time, and (c) what the child could be doing instead.

The answers will vary depending on the type of screen time. During a TV show, children passively watch a two-dimensional story play out. The benefit may be a lesson in morals (two friends work through a conflict), or the presentation of factual information (the life cycle of a butterfly). The drawback is the lack of both an imaginative component and a sense of independence. Unlike a book, which has a limited number of images for a few selected scenes of the story, a TV show provides continuous imagery covering every single moment, leaving no room for imagination. While a nature show on the life cycle of a butterfly may present valuable information, the show progresses at a set pace that does not allow the child time to focus in on and examine any one image, as he/she might choose to do when reading a book or observing a butterfly in the backyard.

For an “educational” app, however, there may be additional benefits. The child may have the opportunity to create a picture using an art app, or use problem-solving skills in a game that requires completing a puzzle to save a princess. But still, there is little room for imagination beyond what is already programmed into the app, and in addition, while children may use their hands to control what happens on the screen, they are not actually touching anything other than the keyboard, mouse, or keypad. Their sensory experience is limited to flashing lights and a repetitive audio response.

All in all, the drawbacks are not actually harmful, but the benefits are not all that impressive, especially when compared to other options, which brings us to the third, and really, the most essential question, what could the child be doing instead? Even if screen time does allow for creativity, problem solving, and imagination, what is the alternative activity? A simple example is an art app vs. drawing with crayons and paper. In an art app, children can create shapes, designs, and even elaborate pictures using a wide range of colors; it is an open-ended, creative experience. The same is true for drawing with crayons and paper, but the child also experiences valuable sensory input: the waxy smell of fresh crayons; the weight of a crayon, with broken pieces being lighter and harder to grasp than bigger pieces, and bigger pieces snapping easily if pressed too hard to the paper; the different shades one crayon can make depending on the pressure applied; the toughness of the paper as it crinkles or tears when scrubbed on; the pattern that appears through the picture from an unevenness under the paper – such as crumbs on the table or deliberately placing a leaf under the paper; the finality of the mark that cannot be erased. As adults, we take our experiential knowledge for granted, often forgetting that children do not yet know what we know. Drawing with crayons and paper offers far more information about the world than the most powerful art app.

Instead of spending time in front of a screen, a child could be building a spaceship with Legos, setting up a tea party for dolls, creating a swamp out of the living room, where the floor is quicksand and cushions are land…the possibilities are endless and they all engage problem solving, social, and physical skills. Plus, falling into a hardwood floor quicksand pit is a sensation that a screen simply can’t provide.

But perhaps even more important than the skills children are gaining through their play is the development of self-reliance. I remember the boredom of waiting rooms, restaurants, and long car rides. Because complaints of boredom were ignored, and fidgeting and impatience were considered poor behavior, my sister and I had to be resourceful. We played tic tac toe and hangman on receipts found in our mom’s purse, made fortune tellers out of napkins, perfected our cat’s cradle skills, played hand games, and made up silly guessing games and songs that got us across three states. Looking back, I realize now how firmly my parents set the expectation that they were not available to entertain us or find activities to occupy our time. The responsibility of figuring out how and what to play fell on us, not them.

Returning to the original question: can screen time be a good thing? Even though screen time in and of itself is not necessarily harmful, it’s what the child is not doing - the sensory input and physical experience that the child is not getting - during that time that can be detrimental to development. Obviously, movie night or enjoying a TV show or app here and there is not going to cause any developmental delays. But screen time so quickly becomes a habit, a quick fix for boredom, and 30-60 minutes a day – the time it takes to take a shower, answer a few emails, and make dinner – adds up pretty quickly, especially when free play is already minimal due to homework (which now seems to start in kindergarten), afterschool activities, and time spent in the car getting to and from these activities. In many cases, those 30-60 minutes a parent takes for him/herself may be the only opportunity a child has for free play… and in that case, I think screen time, no matter what the show or app, is not a good thing.

A few pictures

Sun, 22 Sep 2013 20:16:25 -0400

Our fall flower garden, where Goat Girl spends her time rattling poppy pods and chewing up and spitting out pansy petals (now that the raspberries and blueberries are gone); the last of the sunflowers; and for those who asked, the wood pile all neatly stacked.

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Girl Energy

Wed, 11 Sep 2013 06:00:00 -0400

Not too long ago I took my girls to a group picnic at a playground. I spent most of the afternoon following goat girl around as she climbed structures meant for four- and five-year-olds. Katherine and Clara spent most of their time on the swings. Towards the end of the picnic, there were more children than swings, so Katherine and Clara ended up sharing. They created some sort of game by which one pushed the other and then jumped out of the way to avoid being bumped as the swing came back. Shrieks of delight ensued. I mentally checked them off as happily occupied and continued to spot goat girl as she sought higher elevation.

After a while, I became vaguely aware of louder shrieks. I glanced over at the swings and saw that my girls’ game had escalated into a rougher version of their earlier play. Now, Clara was pumping as hard as she could in order to crash into Katherine, who was standing directly in front of her and no longer jumping out of the way. Both girls were willing participants, delighted with their high-impact game. These two have been playing like this all summer, and I’m used to it. But as I turned back to keep my eyes on Alexandra, it registered that several moms were looking at me expectantly. Slowly, it dawned on me that their expression read, “Are you going to do something about that?”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, I went over to the girls, fully aware that the other moms were still watching me, and told them they were playing too roughly and needed to find a different game. They looked at me with surprise – usually I only step in when I think someone might get hurt, something might get broken, or they are way too loud for the space. But this play was perfectly acceptable to them, and to me. Yet I still stopped them: a classic case of performance parenting.

For the remainder of the picnic, I felt like “that mom”, the one with the wild kids. The one who either doesn’t know how to control her kids’ behavior, or worse yet, doesn’t see the need to. I had the urge to tell the other moms,“Wait! My girls are really good! They’re just having fun, this is how they play together!”

All evening I ran their play, and the other parents’ reaction, through my mind. Were my girls really that wild? Do other kids play rough? I’m pretty sure they do… but as I racked my mind for examples, I realized the question was not do other kids play rough, but do other girls play rough.

I see rough play all the time - on the playground, at school pickup, at birthday parties. But it is usually the boys. Boys wrestling, boys jumping on each other, and boys tumbling on top of each other like playful puppies. Sometimes their rough play bothers me– they knock things down, they crash into others, they look like they might hurt each other. But the words that echo around their play are “boy energy”. Expectant glances from observers (the kind that read, “are you going to do something about that?”) are often met with shrugs of acceptance mingled with modest pride. Boy energy.

There is no question boys and girls are different: in utero, male and female fetuses produce different levels of hormones, which influences development from the onset; studies measuring levels and location of brain activity show differences between men and women; and no one would argue against the fact that men and women are different physically.

But my girls have “boy energy” too, sometimes. As their mom, I should regard their rough play as something they need for their physical development. They are learning control over their bodies and their play should be respected, preserved. Yet, at the first glance from other parents, I felt compelled to shut it down – and I very rarely cave in to performance parenting. It was surprising to realize how deeply I am influenced by this societal norm, especially considering I typically reject traditional gender roles. My girls play with dolls and trucks. Their drawers are not dominated by pink. I mow the lawn and my husband does the laundry. We both cook. But those examples are superficial compared to the behavioral standards that I adhered to at the picnic.

I’m not going to attempt to delve into the complexity of these deep-seated gender norms and their consequences on our society. But I won’t cave in again when my girls play rough. I’ll be prepared with a slight shrug and a knowing smile as I voice the words, “girl energy”.

Making...

Wed, 04 Sep 2013 23:30:03 -0400

I'm taking this week off from work... the first vacation I've taken in the last two years that hasn't involved a newborn or a move to a new house, not that I'd call either of those "vacation". I was sure that with a full week, I'd write up a storm, stocking up on a bunch of posts to tide me over until Thanksgiving, or whenever the next break from the usual routine comes. Obviously that hasn't happened. Instead we've been busy with a bunch of little projects. So following Kim's Make and Listen series, here is what we've been up to (well, at least the "making" -- about the only interesting "listening" was Neil Diamond's Forever in Blue Jeans in the fabric store. I love that song.)

Placemats and napkins. Katherine needs to take a placemat and napkin to school with her lunch each day, and having just received my first sewing machine as a birthday gift, I thought this would be the perfect get-to-know-my-new-sewing-machine project. Growing up, I occasionally used my mom's sewing machine in random bursts of creative energy, but was always discouraged by the final outcome - usually due to crooked lines and pieces of carefully measured cloth that didn't match up. Not much has changed. I would call my decision to make the placemats/napkins a random burst of creative energy, and I am definitely discouraged by the crooked lines. Luckily no one seems to care.

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Curtains. Aware that I own a sewing machine, but unaware of my straight line limitations, Katherine's teacher asked me to sew the curtains for the first grade classroom. I warned him about possible crookedness, but he didn't seem concerned. So I agreed... they look great folded, but they measure two inches longer in the middle of each panel and I have no idea why. They also kind of curl up at the corners, another mystery.

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Trail. We needed a connector trail from the yard to the main trail. Actually, my sister and I just needed an excuse to get out the clippers and hack away at dead tree branches and drag logs through the woods. We now have a nice connector.

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Wood pile. Our wood for the winter (finally) arrived! Good thing I'm taking the week off so we could have a family wood stacking day. We've been looking forward to stacking wood since our early days of dreaming about life in the country. Today we were livin' the dream. I think the novelty would wear off if wood stacking day came more than once a year.

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Apple crisp. It didn't last long enough for a picture.

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That has been our week. Busy. Now we start the transition into the school year...

One year

Tue, 20 Aug 2013 12:09:40 -0400

We had dinner with friends the other night - our first friends here in Vermont. We reminisced, as we walked through the woods, about how different the kids were when we first moved here, and how they’ve changed over the past year.

In our neighborhood in D.C., outside time centered around trips to the playground, family outings to nature centers, and walks around the monuments. A special outing on a cold, rainy day was a bus ride to the train station for hot coco – or for a really special outing, a ride on the bus and metro, escalator included. My kids were city kids.

When we arrived in Vermont, I eagerly tried to send them out to play in the yard while I made dinner, or cleaned, or just wanted a moment of quiet. But they wouldn’t go. They’d stand stubbornly by the door and wait for me. If I did manage to shoo them out the door, they’d wander aimlessly around the driveway for a few minutes before returning to the steps to peer through the window to see when I was coming out to join them. These same kids who would race down the city block, let themselves into the playground, and climb for hours without a second glance at me seemed uncomfortable in this new, undefined space around our house. They were fearful of the woods and wary of the steep slope of the driveway and street. There were no fences holding them safely in their play space, no sidewalks or stop signs to mark their boundaries. It must have been overwhelming to a three- and five-year-old.

But slowly they have eased into their new surroundings, regaining the confidence they had in the city. Katherine started biking up and down the hill, and Clara started digging in the mud and collecting rocks. Katherine joined me on long walks in the woods, and Clara followed caterpillars across the driveway. By spring, they were out the door before I could stop them.

Now, in our new home even further out in the country, we walked through the woods with the friends who had welcomed our city kids to their neighborhood one year ago. The kids ran ahead of us, disappearing into the trees, only an occasional streak of yellow shirt or shriek of laughter giving us a sense of where they were. They looped around, meeting us from the other direction, red-faced and out-of-breath, pausing for only a minute before running off into their new freedom again. The woods is now their playground, and they have settled in.

I am reminded once again of the advice I was given years ago: it takes a year, a complete cycle through the seasons, to adjust to a major life change.

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This and that...

Thu, 15 Aug 2013 15:59:36 -0400

In the other part of my life, the one where I do research in second language acquisition, the work has been very writing intensive this summer, leaving me with little energy for this space. I have a lot of thoughts swirling around that I would love to put down, but when I sit down to write, I find I am all written out. So, I continue on with pictures, recipes and books...

Today, a few pictures. We are all about mud and cake this week.

Tune in tomorrow for what is possibly my all time favorite "This moment" picture!

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Bike Races

Wed, 31 Jul 2013 06:42:09 -0400

I hear them from in the kitchen, their voices traveling from one side of the house to the other, and I know in a few seconds they will pass through my view from the window. My six-year-old runs with the wind; fast and agile, Katherine flies up the steep grade of our tiered yard and leaps back down the slope over the protruding tree roots without slowing her pace, calling over her shoulder, "Come on! Let's ride bikes!" Clara lags behind, her three-year-old legs sturdy and strong, but not yet fast.

I head outside with the baby and wander around the yard to keep an eye on them while they ride up and down the street. Michael, the 10-year-old across the street, has set up his new jump and is practicing tricks on his bike. My girls watch in fascination. Katherine cautiously takes a turn riding slowly up over the ramp and bumping down on the other side. Clara contents herself to ride around it in circles.

I busy myself picking dandelions and forget-me-nots, feigning oblivion so as not to intrude on their play. I circle up around the back of the house. As I wander back down the other side I hear Michael call out, "Let's race up the hill and back down - whoever gets there first wins!"

For a moment I hesitate, suspended between my instinct to call out "No! No races - Clara is too young, SLOW DOWN!" and my desire to allow her space to figure it out on her own. I look up the steep hill, covered with patches of loose gravel, and the scene unfolds in my imagination: Michael skillfully races down the hill, Katherine close behind, anxious to keep up, maybe even win. Clara, who has not fully mastered her back-pedal brakes, speeds out of control, barely keeping her balance on the tiny, blue two-wheeler. I can see her fear as she looses control, handle bars shaking as she skids across the gravel. She'll fall off, break her arm, need stitches… I won't be able to stop her in time.

But despite the anxiety-driven vision rushing before my eyes, I can't bring myself to call out my warning. From the depths of my own childhood, memories of running free with neighborhood kids silence me. We rode bikes as fast as we could pedal, we did tricks on roller-skates, we forged secret passageways through neighbors' yards, we climbed high in trees where we held tree-house meetings. I broke my arm once, my sister got stitches. But during those long hours after school, and on summer evenings when we played until dark, we were free to figure it out, and it was magical.

I hold onto that cherished time in life, and in a display of casualness, I lean down to help the baby blow the seeds off a dandelion. The white flakes swirl around me as I watch the bike race out of the corner of my eye. Michael and Katherine come speeding down the hill, Clara not far behind, a look of fear on her face as she struggles to control the shaking handlebars. She skids on the gravel, tipping dangerously, unable to brake. Her feet shoot off the pedals and drag on the ground until she wobbles to a stop. She doesn’t fall.

Michael calls out the next race and all three head back up the hill again, as fast as they can pedal. I turn away and look for more dandelions, deciding that perhaps I don't need to watch them so closely.

Lots of pictures

Mon, 22 Jul 2013 22:10:40 -0400

It is so nice to be sitting at my computer, at my desk, at home, connected to the internet! Some people talk about how great it is to take a step back from social media... Not me. I missed it every day we didn't have it.

But no internet did have its advantages. We've made a lot of progress settling in here. Mostly cleaning (indoors and out), but now we're starting to slow down and enjoy our new place.

Here are a few pictures. (One day I'll get back to writing about parenting, but for now I'm consumed by the yard - and so are the kids, which means I'm not actually doing all that much parenting)

The first weeded garden bed.

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The other garden beds still look like this. Pretty, but totally out of control.

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Here is a little weeded patch with tomatoes planted by Auntie M.

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And raspberry bushes. The kids spend a good part of their day snacking off the raspberry bushes, especially now that we've figured out they are a wild variety and are ripe when they are deep purple, not bright red.

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This space was thick with dead branches, but an hour with the clippers (I now love clippers and would be happy to clip away all day) and we made a little "house" for the kids. My mom sent us the hammock 10 years ago, and we never had a place to hang it (no yard and/or no trees). Usually I get rid of such unused, random things, but somehow this was overlooked. I think it made its way into the camping box, where it was safe in our hopes of camping again one day.

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The craft porch. Glitter, paint, spilled water, a million tiny pieces of cut up paper... I don't care. They can make whatever kind of mess they want and only half clean it up. During the day I look past the mess at the view, at night I simply close the door.

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/c4eca9ed52.jpg" alt="">

And the night sky. I can always count on a night sky for calm and perspective.

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A clean coop

Wed, 17 Jul 2013 15:53:10 -0400

It's hard to blog with no internet. But we should have it by the end of the week, so I'm hoping to get back into my normal routine of wasting away in front of the computer screen into the wee hours every night, and then regretting it bitterly at 5 am when Alexandra wakes up.

But in the meantime, I thought you might like an update on the chicken coop. Three hours with a pitch fork, shovel, broom, and putty knife, and the coop is CLEAN. Fresh straw and pine shavings and a sun-dried mud pit make for happy chickens. I think they even like me now. They used to run away whenever I was near, but now they ignore me. I don't think I'll be carrying them around anytime soon (or ever, if I can help it), but we're making progress.

Katherine and Clara have started naming the chickens. The names seem to change regularly, but as of yesterday they were: Dora, Dora, Golden Egg, Golden Egg, Speckled, and Best Chicken in the World. They have also started claiming specific chickens to be their "very own". I'm sure it's just a matter of time before they start fighting over who belongs to whom.

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/622ae91694.jpg" alt=" One of the Doras ">  One of the Doras [/caption] 



   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="500"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/bb3ea11a2f.jpg" alt=" One of the Golden Eggs ">  One of the Golden Eggs [/caption]

Cleaning a Chicken Coop?

Thu, 11 Jul 2013 15:45:35 -0400

We inherited six chickens when we moved, and while I don't know anything about chickens, I'm pretty sure the coop needs a good cleaning.

If you have chickens, I'd love to hear how you clean your coop, how often, with what, etc. I need details; "Use pine shavings" is a little too general. For example, do you rake or shovel out the coop? Where do you put the used (what do you even call it? Bedding?) Can you dump it in the woods? Compost it? What do you use to clean the floor/walls? I've heard about vinegar/lavender/citrus concoctions... does anyone have a brand or recipe for this? What about the outside section of the coop? Any suggestions for the mud pit it has become?

Please advise!

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How (not) to move with kids

Tue, 09 Jul 2013 16:01:26 -0400

1. Avoid going to Home Depot with children at lunchtime, especially if it means driving an hour each way.

2. Don't wait until moving day to begin packing.

3. Remember that small children still need to eat and sleep regularly.

4. Cry when you realize how much "stuff" you have.

5. Treat yourself to coffee and chocolate croissants as necessary.

And plan on your kids needing clean, dry clothes at some point during the move.

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/5cc9ac2384.jpg" alt="">

Moving Day

Mon, 01 Jul 2013 07:21:54 -0400

Last week was filled with heavy rains, a leaky roof and flooded basement, a power outage, closing on what is now our house(!), and the beginning of moving chaos.

We love our new (very old) farmhouse, but there is so much work to do - fun work like gardening, feeding chickens, and exploring our new space, and not so fun work like clearing away cobwebs and packing.

We will be busy this next week. I'll be back with updates and pictures next week, and maybe even a tutorial on how not to carry out a move with three small children. #1 Do not take three small children to Home Depot at lunchtime, no matter how anxious you are to get outlet covers.

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Giveaway - one day left

Mon, 24 Jun 2013 21:38:31 -0400

As promised, here is a picture of our Easy Canvas print that arrived today (sorry about the poor lighting - thunderstorms and only one lamp here). It turned out really well - I love this picture of our favorite family spot.

Only one day left to enter the giveaway they are hosting. Enter here and you will automatically receive a 60% off coupon and perhaps win an 8x10 canvas of your favorite picture!

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Giveaway!

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 07:09:35 -0400

I'm not really a picture person - most of the time I forget the camera, or if I bring it I forget to take pictures. The few pictures I do take pictures either end up on this blog or in some cyber folder and only get looked at about a week before Christmas in our holiday card creation frenzy. I like the idea of printing out pictures and placing them in frames around the house, or even better, in neatly organized albums, but I don't think I've printed a picture in at least 3 years...

Share this giveaway on Facebook!

Father's Day Hike

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 23:24:10 -0400

We had a lovely day. The girls woke up early so I was able to take them to get a surprise donut breakfast for Dave while he slept in. When we returned, we arranged the gift basket (filled with chocolate) on the table, along with the donuts and painting the girls had made for Father’s Day. Dave was happily surprised and we all enjoyed breakfast before heading out for a family hike. We chose a trail we had heard was great for kids – not too long or too difficult, with great views at the end. We brought a picnic lunch and ate it in a shelter overlooking a lake with beautiful mountain views. All three kids – especially Alexandra – enjoyed the climb. We spent the rest of the afternoon reading books and painting. Then early dinner and early kiddo bedtime. A perfect day to celebrate Father’s Day.

Doesn’t that sounds lovely? You may even be thinking, wow, they pulled that day off seamlessly! They have got it down.

Well. That is one version of our lovely Father’s Day. But I want to keep this space real, so here is that same story with reality woven in.

We had a lovely day. Alexandra woke up screaming at 5:30 am, as she does every day (we have no idea why), which in turn woke up Katherine and Clara. Last night I recklessly promised Katherine that she and I could get up early and go - just the two of us - to get donuts for a special Father’s Day breakfast. So when Katherine realized Clara was also awake and expecting to be included in the impending outing, she threw herself into a tantrum (“You said I could go alone with you, you said! That’s not fair! Clara will ruin it, she’ll fuss all the way up the hill, she can’t even walk all the way to the donut store!”) I’m pretty sure the neighbors could hear the chaos, so there is no way Dave slept through it, but luckily he opted to ignore it and stay in bed so as not to ruin our “surprise” breakfast plan. And Katherine eventually accepted my reckless consolation offer to take her on a different, even better special outing later in the day. So off we all went to get breakfast, minus the coffee, because I have not figured out how to safely carry two hot coffees while walking three small children through town.

Breakfast was nice, everyone was happy with their donuts, and afterwards we managed to pack up and get out the door for a hike in a record 45 minutes. We made it to the trailhead and set out with energy and high spirits. Our pace was a bit slow due to Alexandra insisting on walking too, but who am I to discourage a 16-month-old from hiking, besides, what was the rush? But about a mile in we realized the 3 miles was going to take a lot longer than the “hour” estimated in the trail guide, and that it was already 11am, and, oh, we had left our picnic lunch in the car for after the hike, because surely we’d be back by noon.

So I trudged on with the kids while Dave enjoyed a little trail run back to the car to get our lunch. He caught up to us just as we made it to the peak, and we enjoyed lunch with a scenic view overlooking the lake. Then it started to rain. It was kind of nice at first, we could hear it but not really feel it as we walked through the woods, but then it rained harder, and in the end we all got pretty wet. But still, our little hikers kept hiking, and there was only one quality Parenting101 moment when I *may* have thrown out an idle threat of abandonment (If you fall and twist your ankle we won't be able to carry you back to the car and we'll have no choice but to leave you here!) in an attempt to get Katherine to stop run-leaping down a steep, rocky section. The threat had no effect and Katherine did not fall and hurt herself.

We made it back to the car by 3pm. Crap! 3pm! We still had to do the grocery shopping and Katherine was expecting her special outing alone with me. I hastily made the grocery list in the car while Dave navigated through the downpour. Luckily the kids think the ultimate outing is accompanying me to the big grocery store (probably because we almost never take them), so grocery shopping doubled as our special outing.

And somehow, late in the afternoon, books were read, pictures were painted and dinner was made. All three kids asleep before 8pm.

It was a lovely day. We got up early, went for a hike, enjoyed a picnic, got the grocery shopping done. It was a very nice Father’s Day. But it was very real. We had to parent all day long.

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Green Eggs and R

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 12:46:18 -0400

I tend not to appreciate computer technology. My life would be complete with TextEdit and Safari, and maybe Excel (since I do love a well organized spreadsheet), but I'm married to a Mac/Techie guy, so we have computers and software and stuff that I am *encouraged* to use. It's not that I can't figure out new programs, it's more that I don't particularly enjoy it. I think it has to do with impatience. The whole purpose of technology is that it can do what you want it to do better and faster than you ever could. So when it doesn't just magically work, I get annoyed. And by annoyed I mean I whine and complain until I've worked myself into a state of total frustration, all the while cursing so-called technological "advances" (for example, "They can put a man on the moon but strikethrough on my blogging platform doesn't work! What is WRONG with this thing? WHY WON'T IT WORK??)*. I pretty much carry on until my techie steps in and solves the problem in order to stop the big noisy fuss.

But it has come up that I need to use R, which is "a free software environment for statistical computing and graphics". You have to tell it what to do using commands in R code. No drop down menus, no point and click commands, no user-friendly interface. I've never really tried it, but I'm pretty sure I do not care for programming.

Being in that ever-elusive balance between career and motherhood, R has morphed into the Green Eggs and Ham of my existence, and I have become the yellow-cat-monster guy who insists on disliking it.

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But R keeps popping up all over the place, and this time my techie can't save me. So after some resistance (which, in my defense, was mostly due to time constraints) I finally gave it a try, accepting that I'd have to eat the Green Eggs and Ham.

And guess what -- I do like R! It combines logic and creativity, and if you are so inclined (and capable) you can even strive for elegance. Plus, it's not annoying like certain programs (ahem, Word) because the user tells it exactly what to do. In other words, it won't try to auto format your work against your will or (incorrectly) predict your bullet alignment preference.

What can you actually do with R, you ask? Well, you can look at your dessert intake per week and compare it to that of your husband and average Joe.

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/f878482e10.jpg" alt="">

We see here that I eat more chocolate and more cake than David, but David eats far more ice cream than I do. Both Dave and I consume significantly more desserts per week than average Joe.

You can also track your enjoyment of R over time. I started out not enjoying it at all, but now enjoy it quite a bit. That dip in my enjoyment represents the day I spent trying to figure out why I couldn't get a factor command to work due to a colon where there should have been a comma.

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/76192276ae.jpg" alt="">

And the formatting possibilities... error bars, point size, x and y axis labels, color... Perhaps you'd like to see the same graph, but with a pink line? Here you go!

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/e273b8ef1d.jpg" alt="">

Say, I like R. I do! I would do it anytime...

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*Please excuse the first world problem

Work it out

Tue, 28 May 2013 23:55:28 -0400

Katherine and Clara sometimes fight. (I blame their bickering on my mom because I'm pretty sure she wished fighting daughters upon me hundreds of times when I was a kid and fought constantly with my sister.) I try not to get too involved in their disputes - they seem better able to work it out if they think no parent is around. But lately they've been having a hard time with the scooter. The problem is that Katherine has a scooter, Clara doesn't, Clara wants one, Katherine doesn't want to share. Going out to ride bikes usually dissolves into tears over the scooter pretty quickly.

Why not just buy another scooter? No way. I don't like the things to begin with and I'm all caught up in the House on the Prairie books in which Laura and Mary are content with corn cob dolls, so buying a second scooter when both girls already have bikes seems awfully excessive.

Anyway, at first I tried to help them negotiate some kind of reasonable arrangement, but that failed miserably. So I switched my strategy to total indifference. "Work it out," I call over my shoulder as I walk away.

After weeks of this problem, they finally figured it out. Today Katherine informed me, "Mom, we decided only Alexandra can ride the scooter" (which she can't actually do because she is 1). "Oh? Is that because you can't figure out how to share it?" I asked. "Yes. No one gets to ride it. This way I don't have to share. "

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Homemade tree swing

Sun, 26 May 2013 20:16:04 -0400

Last week Katherine decided she was going to make a swing for the tree in our yard. At first I thought her plan was to make a little swing for her dolls, or maybe the fairies in the fairy house, but as she started gathering materials it became obvious she was going to build herself a swing. We're used to her making whatever it is that she wants but doesn't have - skis, scooters, a violin, flip flops. She usually fashions these things out of cardboard, paper, string, and tape. I assumed this swing would end up like that - kind of real, but mostly pretend. But half an hour later, we peeked in on her project and found this:

I'm not so sure about that middle rope, and Dave did check the knots later that night, but it appears to be sound. They love it and have already spent hours swinging on it.

This swing reminds me that the less I am involved in their play, the more creative and resourceful they are.

Nothing new...

Wed, 15 May 2013 07:17:04 -0400

We are two months into our new work schedule and I'm finding it harder and harder to find time for this space. I have a lot swirling around in my mind, but without stretches of time to let it settle during the day, the words don't come when I finally sit down to write at 9pm. Plus, I am much less excited to sit down at the computer at night when I've spent all day in front of it.

Once again, I find myself struggling to fit everything I want to do into the routine. There is always something that has to be temporarily juggled out, and I'm afraid that something is this space... at least for a while until I figure out how to work it back in, or rotate something else out.

So maybe this will be a once a week blog for now, or maybe it will be more recipes, book reviews, and pictures, and fewer words. Maybe someone will want to write a guest post?

In the meantime, any working moms out there with wisdom on how to juggle it all?

Stuffed Animals

Wed, 01 May 2013 07:26:14 -0400

I have never bought a stuffed animal for my children (although Santa brought a puppy, and the Easter Bunny brought a rabbit). But look all the friends who attended Eastie's birthday party (and this is only half the attendees)!

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/c1b0405563.jpg" alt="">

I don't have anything against stuffed animals, it's just that we have too many. Every time I try to cut down the population, I remember who gave us what and when and get all sentimental about it. I'm not like this about anything else - usually I quite enjoy getting rid of stuff, to the point where the kids have turned "disappear" into a verb, as in, "Mom, are you going to disappear my balloon tonight?" But apparently, despite my general indifference towards them, I have a weakness for stuffed animals.

One Year

Sun, 28 Apr 2013 22:22:04 -0400

A fresh space for a new year.

One afternoon, a year ago today, when all three children were miraculously napping at the same time, this blog was created out of a caffeine high combined with a maternity leave "I can do anything" mentality. I initially tried to get my friend Sarah to co-author a blog called SisterWives, but that never happened. So YellowLadybird it was.

Happy one year!

Let's reflect back on that first post: Oatmeal Honey Cookies. I think this is as good an excuse as any to bake.

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Eating Mud

Wed, 24 Apr 2013 08:05:31 -0400

A while back I wrote an essay on my experience with miscarriage. Stop over at Mamalode to read it!

To lighten things up around here, I saw one of those Facebook parenting cards with this caption on it:

First child eats dirt. Parent calls doctor. Second child eats dirt. Parent cleans out mouth. Third child eats dirt. Parent wonders if she really needs to feed him lunch.

So very true.

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/1a079603f6.jpg" alt="">

The Gun Problem

Sun, 21 Apr 2013 22:46:47 -0400

Over the past few months, I've attended a few rallies in support of our local GunSense Group, and I've heard some pretty impressive people speak about the gun problem in our country. I wish I could remember exactly who said what so I could give credit appropriately, but at least I can share their wisdom.

A Public Health Issue
There are over 30,000 gun-related deaths each year in the U.S. (11,000 assault, 19,000 intentional self-harm), and each year nearly 20,000 American children and teens are shot. This is a public health issue. To give some perspective, an average of 500 people die from the flu each year (1), which is considered enough of a public health issue that the government spends millions on the flu vaccine to prevent that number from being greater. Gun violence should be treated as a public health issue and we should respond as we do to other public health issues: we should do something.

Guns or Mental Health Care or Video Games?
The pro-gun side says the problem is our mental health system, not guns; and if it's not our mental health care system, then it is violent video games. But it is definitely not guns because guns don't kill people, people kill people.

According to the World Health Organization, we are in the same range of spending on our mental health care system as other developed nations. In fact, we spend more on our mental health care system than France does (2). Yet our murder rate is roughly 15 times greater than those countries (3). The difference isn't our mental health care system, it is the fact that we have more guns per capita than any other country, with almost three times as many guns per capita than most European countries (4).

Well, then it must be the violent video games (which, by the way, gun companies use to market their products, making it rather ironic that they then blame these videos for gun violence). I think we are all disturbed by this phenomena in our country. I cringe to think of children playing games entitled Bulletstorm, Splatterhouse, and Kindergarten Killers. But still, if we are to blame gun violence on video games, we would expect to see a violent video game - gun violence correlation in other countries. Japan, a country that allows the sale of video games even more violent than those allowed in the U.S. (5), had 11 gun-related deaths in 2008. Eleven. In the U.S., there were over 12,000. The difference? Japan has very strict gun laws and almost no guns.

Gun Laws and the 2nd Amendment
America loves its guns. We are a hunting society. It is our constitutional right to own a gun. Like it or not, we need to take that into consideration when writing new laws to reduce gun violence.

Leaving Background Checks and the Assault Weapon Ban aside for a minute, consider the following proposals, none of which violate the constitutional right.

A Safe Storage* law would require gun owners to keep their weapons locked in a safe. This, at the very least, would prevent children from gaining access to a gun. Just as there are extensive requirements for barriers around residential swimming pools so that neighborhood children do not drown, it is reasonable to require safe storage laws for guns on residential property so that neighborhood children are not shot.

A Reckless Ownership Penalty would hold adults accountable for their guns. For example, if an adult's reckless practice enables a child to access a gun and subsequently injure or kill someone, that adult would be held responsible.

A National Registry would require gun owners to register their gun. This would help prevent the illegal sale of guns. Of course, if we have no restrictions on who owns a gun, this isn't really necessary, but it would help enforce a Reckless Ownership Penalty.

Require gun owners to purchase Weapon Insurance to cover damage caused with their weapon, such as victim's health care and/or property damage costs.

None of these four laws threaten the 2nd Amendment. They do not restrict gun ownership in any way. They only aim to make gun ownership safer and protect the public from gun violence. Some states have some of these laws, but they should all be passed at the federal level.

If we are objective, we have to recognize that Health and Criminal Background Checks and Assault Weapon Bans do aim to restrict the 2nd Amendment, and as much as they are common sense laws to us common sense folks, they may need a little extra explanation for those who so fervently protect "the right of people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed."

Require Reporting Mental Health Data to the National Instant Check System. Pro gun people talk about fortifying the mental health system. Well, this law would do that. It would help prevent disturbed individuals who are prone to violence from going on shooting sprees.

A Background Check would prevent individuals convicted of a violent crime from purchasing a gun. To me, this is a no brainer, and I'm a little surprised the pro gun folks are so concerned with the rights of convicted felons. As for the law-abiding citizens who would be subjected to the inconvenience of a background check? I can’t imagine that any decent citizen would mind undergoing a background check if it meant saving even one child’s life from gun violence.

An Assault Weapon Ban would prevent mass murders, like Columbine, Virginia Tech, Newtown, to name a few. There is no reason for assault weapons. None of the hunters I know need or use an assault weapon, nor do they want to be in the woods with someone who does. For those who enjoy using assault weapons for recreational shooting, either use blanks or go to a shooting range where such weapons are available for use on the premise. These military weapons are not designed for personal use. At the time the constitution was written, nothing even close to these killing machines had been invented, therefore they should not fall under the definition of "Arms."

An Assault Weapon Ban is drastic, and some people say it wouldn't make a difference given there are already (approximately) 3 million assault weapons in our country (6). This is a problem, there is no doubt about that. But we can solve this problem. We have solved many more difficult problems than this. Polio was a problem, and we solved it. Getting to the moon was a problem, and we solved that. We can solve the problem of existing assault weapons in our country.

Everything I've written here is common sense and can be boiled down to the following: we have a gun violence problem and there are obvious solutions that don't violate the constitution.

Why can't we fix this problem?

I'll get into that in the next post.

*A common counter-argument to the Safe Storage proposal is that keeping a gun locked in a safe prevents one from using a gun in self-defense, and therefore violates the 2nd Amendment. For example, an armed intruder enters your house in the night and your gun is locked up such that you can't access it to shoot the intruder before he shoots you. To this I say, the number of times this type of scenario will occur and result in a gun-related death is not likely to come close to the 20,000 instances of children and teens who are shot each year. So if you are concerned about an armed intruder, carry your gun secured on you during your waking hours and invest in a high quality alarm system at night so that your gun can be stored safely.

References
1. www.cdc.gov/nchs/data/dvs/deaths_2010_release.pdf
2. www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/wonkblog/wp/2012/12/17/seven-facts-about-americas-mental-health-care-system/
3. www.nytimes.com/2012/12/18/opinion/the-gun-challenge-strict-laws-work.html?_r=0
4. [en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Numb...](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Number_of_guns_per_capita_by_country)
5. www.policymic.com/articles/21478/gun-violence-and-video-games-why-this-is-not-the-debate-we-should-be-having
6.www.slate.com/blogs/crime/2012/12/20/assault_rifle_stats_how_many_assault_rifles_are_there_in_america.html

Read about why sensible gun laws are so important to me.

Guns.

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 22:23:18 -0400

I don't consider this a space for political discussions, but gun violence has become a parenting issue and so I have decided to write about it.

I am so very disappointed with what happened today. The fact is that 90% of Americans support background checks, but the bill still didn't pass. This is just a small glimpse of a serious and deeply disturbing problem in our country. But before I get into the legislative debate, I'd like to explain why it is so personal to me.

On May 20, 1988, a mentally ill woman with a history of violence went into one of our town's elementary schools and shot one first grader and five second graders. One died. Two were the siblings of my 7th grade peers. The woman then fled the school, entered a house and shot a twenty-year-old before killing herself. My parents, who had been at a meeting at the junior high when the call came in, went to the school to help and served as first responders.

It is difficult to write about that day, what it did to our community. I can state the facts, but not more than that. My sister, who was in second grade at the time, recently commented that none of her friends ever talk about it, and I have noticed that, too, among my friends. Twenty-five years later we still can't find words to describe the horror of that day. There is nothing we can say that even touches it, so we say nothing. But it lives in us and always will, and every time another school shooting occurs, the vivid pain and grief of that day comes rushing back.

There have been many school shootings since the one in my town, and each time I try to shrug it off and block out the information and images. I've already been through that, I've already grieved for children shot. But Newtown is different. I am a mother now, and not only that, I am a mother to a six-year-old. I have spent two Thanksgivings with friends in Newtown. My children have played on a Newtown playground. I ran in the Newtown Thanksgiving Road Race. I cannot shrug off the horror or block out the information. I am haunted by images of children with holes through their little bodies, lying still on the floor. I can too easily see my daughter's face on one of those lifeless bodies, still in the clothes she had picked out the night before. I have to force these images out of my mind on a daily basis. But even when I succeed in suppressing them, the grief cuts in when I least expect it - when I am combing my daughter's hair before school, reminding her to sit still at the dinner table, kissing her goodnight at bedtime. I can barely grasp the pain that overwhelms me before my mind's reflex rejects it, leaving me empty, anxious and depressed. All of this grief... and I am not even part of the Newtown community.

After the shooting in my home town, I rationalized that it would not happen again. It was a once in a lifetime, random tragedy. Surely measures would be taken to solve whatever problem there was in the system. But it has happened again. It keeps on happening. Here we are twenty-five years later and nothing has been done. In fact, gun ownership has increased, military-style assault weapons are available to anyone who wants one, and there are approximately 11,000 gun-related deaths per year in our country.

And today congress voted down a simple, sensible law that would require a background check before purchasing a gun… a law that 90% of Americans supported.

That is all I can write today.

Three in a row

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 17:06:28 -0400

People often ask how we manage with three kids and one small car. The answer is: two Radian carseats for the big sisters and a Chicco Keyfit 30 for the baby.

Living in DC, it was really nice having one little car. Then when we decided to have a third kid, everyone told us we'd need a bigger car, so naturally we dug in our heels to prove we did not need a bigger car.

Now that Alexandra is getting longer (and we have experienced our first "mud season"), we may need to rethink our car situation. But not yet. We are going to hang onto our little Versa for as long as we can.

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Curative Story: Molly Artiste

Wed, 10 Apr 2013 23:13:56 -0400

I just finished reading Bringing up Bébé, which I loved. One of Druckerman's observations is that in American kids' books there is usually a problem, a struggle, and a happy resolution, "Lessons are learned, and life gets better" (p. 162). Stepping back, I see how true this cultural phenomenon is, and I wonder, is this another automatic and empty reflex that has blindly taken over children's literature the way "good jobbing" has taken over parent talk? Do we really want to communicate to our children that life is full of neat and tidy endings? Because I have yet to experience that kind of life and I'm not sure raising our kids to believe it will make it so...

To avoid turning my children into anxious underachievers who will never ever succeed in life because they are wasting away in a neurotic spiral of doom while waiting for that happy ending promised in all the childhood stories I ever told them... here is my first Curative Story à la française.

Curative Story: Molly Artiste

Once upon a time there was a bunny, and her name was Molly bunny. Molly bunny lived in the forest with her mama bunny and her daddy bunny. Molly bunny was 6 years old and loved to draw. Every afternoon while her mama was cooking carrot stew, Molly bunny would sit on the stump with her favorite long stick and draw pictures in the dirt. She drew tall trees, little flowers with petals, bumble bees, butterflies, and even her best friend, Agoo the chipmunk.

One day, Molly bunny was drawing a picture of a tree she had recently discovered in the forest. It was an old tree with many strong branches. One branch held a bird's nest and another had a long rope swing that a little girl would sometimes stop to play on when she took a walk in the woods. Molly bunny was trying to draw the girl on the rope swing. She frowned in concentration as she dragged the stick across the earth to make the rope hang down from the tree. Then she drew a head and a body and arms to make the girl. Molly bunny looked at what she had drawn and it didn't look like a girl on a rope swing at all. She smoothed the dirt to erase the girl and tried again. It still didn't look right. Molly bunny threw her stick in frustration and yelled, "This is NOT working!"

"Molly!" exclaimed mama bunny, looking up from her stew, "what's wrong?" "This drawing in terrible," said Molly bunny angrily. Mama bunny came over to look at it. "Hmmm," she said, "what don't you like about it?" "It doesn't look like a girl on a rope swing. It doesn't look like anything. It's terrible!" And with that Molly jumped down onto her picture and stirred up all the dirt until no picture was left.

Mama bunny sighed. "Well, you could draw something else. Or try it again. But it might not look the way you want it to. Sometimes art is like that." Molly bunny looked at her mama. "I really want to draw the girl on the rope swing," she said, gazing at a clean patch of dirt. She picked up her stick and started over. After a few minutes she stepped back and looked at her drawing. The tree looked good, she thought, but it still didn't look like a girl on a rope swing.

Molly tossed her stick aside. Her artwork was not working today, she decided. So she hopped off the stump and went to gather stones to play hopscotch instead.

Spring in DC

Mon, 08 Apr 2013 23:48:33 -0400

When we moved to Vermont I was ready for a real winter. I faced it full of energy, prepared for a good 4-5 months of cold and snow. But now it is April and my "I love winter" energy has run out. Leftover dirty, icy snow covers our yard and the wind is still chilly. It feels like we're in some sort of no man's land - winter is over but spring feels far away.

I can't help but long for DC... March and April are my favorite months in DC (or maybe I should say DC is my favorite place in March and April), and I'm pretty sure they are my least favorite months in Vermont.

Vermont in April:

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/f673009451.jpg" alt="">

DC in April:

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/f2a56faa2a.jpg" alt="">

I won't miss DC's 90+ degrees from May-September, but right now? I'm kind of wishing I were there.

Easter Dolls

Sun, 31 Mar 2013 21:29:41 -0400

[caption id="" align=“alignnone” width=“200”] "Eastie" (center) with the two new dolls. [/caption]

The Easter Bunny diversified our doll population this morning. The girls' reaction was interesting and not quite what I expected.

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/a3e224de78.jpg" alt=" Clara with her new love, " j>  Clara with her new love, "J" [/caption]

Clara, who has faithfully loved her doll "Eastie" since the Easter Bunny brought him last year, immediately abandoned him to claim the Asian doll as her new love. She named her "J" after her cousin J, whose father is Chinese.

Katherine, who has been jealous of "Eastie" all year, jumped on the opportunity to make him her own - and make "him" a "her." Eastie does get to keep her name, although there has been some talk of changing it to Ava or Ella.

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  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/81c1dcbd3b.jpg" alt="">

Alexandra took an instant liking to the brown baby, and has been alternating cuddling her and tossing her down the slide all day.

In addition to the doll swap, all the clothes have been changed around. But now it seems everyone is settled with their new dolls.

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/d36e886e9d.jpg" alt="">

The only comment I heard about the dolls' ethnicity came from Katherine, who claimed she liked Eastie the best "because she has the same skin as I do." An innocent comment that shows she does notice race and has a preference for dolls who look like her. This is a pretty typical six-year-old reaction, but it is also a reminder of how important it is for our home to reflect the diversity we want our children to value.

I've mentioned before that Kristen over at Rage Against the Minivan writes a lot about race in our society. If you are interested in reading more about children and racial differences, I highly recommend her post on How to Talk to Kids About Race and Racism.

Away...

Wed, 27 Mar 2013 02:08:33 -0400

A brief escape to this beautiful beach* for an hour at sunset today.

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Purple sand. I'd never seen purple sand.

It's nice to have two days of intense greens and blues (and purple) after months of the wintery black and white of Vermont.

Can anyone guess what beach this is?

*I would have taken these pictures myself if I had thought to bring a camera on this trip. But I didn't, so photography credit goes to the wonderful people who upload their pictures to the internet for others to enjoy!.

This moment: Fortune Tellers

Fri, 22 Mar 2013 07:32:04 -0400

From Soulemama: A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/95fbdf8b79.jpg" alt="">

Cookie Decorating

Mon, 18 Mar 2013 15:27:50 -0400

I just discovered Pinterest. I knew the general idea and have heard/read about how it often makes moms feel bad about what they're not doing or pulling off with their homes/cooking/baking/etc. So when I added a few boards to get started (as Pinterest made me do), I wasn't surprised to see some pretty impressive baking feats.

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/c784d3da38.jpg" alt="">

Once upon a time, I decorated the things I baked. Not anymore. I think the last time Dave and I did any cake decorating was for Katherine's first birthday.

I've tried a few times since, but since I do most of my baking with small children who want to help out, I've learned everyone is much happier when there is no specific outcome in mind.

So while some people's Easter cookies look like this...

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/7feb89448b.jpg" alt="">

Ours look like this...

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/76e777e40a.jpg" alt=" (In case it isn't obvious, there are bunnies, carrots, maple leaves " because it maple sugar time little fairy cookies and something round that is also for the fairies but i never did understand what was exactly>  (In case it isn't obvious, there are bunnies, carrots, maple leaves "because it's maple sugar time", little fairy cookies, and something round that is also for the fairies, but I never did understand what it was for exactly) [/caption]

I don't have anything to pin to Pinterest from our afternoon of baking, but we have a neon pink carrot cookie to eat. Who wouldn't want that?!

Do you have any questions?

Wed, 13 Mar 2013 07:46:17 -0400

Last week as we were loading into the car after a triple-kid doctor appointment (we're all much better now, thank you for the well wishes), a mom in the car next to us was unloading her three children, the oldest of whom was about 8 and in a wheelchair. Both Katherine and Clara watched intently as the mom settled her son into his chair. By "intently," I mean staring and captivated.

I smiled at the mom as I would any other mom with three kids and then went about putting mine in their carseats. But I wondered, what does that mom want me to do about my kids staring at her kid? What does she want me to tell them to meet their curiosity about her son? What does she want me not to do or say?

As I was buckling them in, Katherine was silent, but clearly thinking about the boy. So I asked her, Katherine, do you have any questions you would like to ask me about the boy in the wheelchair? At first she hesitated and shook her head, but then she asked, Why was he in a wheelchair?

Me: I don't know. Maybe he came out of his mom's belly a little too early and his muscles don't work properly. I'm not sure.

Katherine: Can he walk? Or talk?

Me: No, he can't walk, but he can talk. He might not sound the way you do when you talk, but he probably talks just as much as you do and I bet his mom has to tell him to talk more quietly when his little sister is sleeping!

Katherine: What else does he do?

Me: I bet he loves to read - he looks like he's 7 or 8, so he is probably learning to read at school. And I bet he likes when his mom and dad read to him before bed.

Katherine: Does he sleep in his wheelchair? Can he get out of it?

Me: He sleeps in a bed and he can sit on the couch or play on the floor.

Katherine: Will I be in a wheelchair someday?

Me: No, you won't. Your muscles work properly.

Katherine: Oh, ok.

Me: Do you have any more questions? I'm happy to talk to you about this and answer your questions.

That balance between answering their questions, but not providing more information than they are asking for, or are ready for, or can handle at one time, is tricky. And questions like that aren't usually the ones you can prepare for. I didn't know why the boy was in the wheelchair, but I thought that Katherine needed some sort of simple explanation. And of course I can't promise anyone that they won't be in a wheelchair someday, but at her age, she shouldn't have the burden of worrying about the turns life can take, and so I just answered, no.

Katherine seemed satisfied with the conversation, but I do wonder how to raise children so that disabilities are simply accepted and do not cause a barrier in making a connection with someone.

Anyone have any experience or advice in this area that they'd be willing to share?

Artwork in children's books

Mon, 11 Mar 2013 09:44:39 -0400

I've noticed a trend when I post about books that I love...

... the imagery is beautiful.
... this book has beautiful images.
... also, the artwork is beautiful.
... beautiful artwork.

I think it's safe to say I often choose a book based on its illustrations. Given the artwork in children's books is so important to me, I thought I'd share my thoughts on the kind of artwork I love and why.

One quality I like is for the artwork to be vague and open-ended... more like a prompt to create an image than a pre-made picture. Just as imagination is the child's work in play, it is also the child's work in listening to stories. Giving a child space to imagine a character or a scene allows him to make it what he needs it to be to be relevant to his life.

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="475"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/2c18c2193c.jpg" alt=" Beach, Elisha Cooper ">  Beach, Elisha Cooper [/caption] 



   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/3367e77dfd.jpg" alt=" The Hello, Goodbye Window, artwork by Chris Raschka ">  The Hello, Goodbye Window, artwork by Chris Raschka [/caption] 



   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/9a612a3728.jpg" alt=" A Color of His Own, by Leo Lionni ">  A Color of His Own, by Leo Lionni [/caption]

But the artwork doesn't have to be vague to inspire. I love these pictures - even though they are well-defined, they still allow one to imagine movement. That is, they are not outlined in black ink with a shallow, still feel to them (i.e., Dora, Thomas the Train). They have depth and beauty.

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/8965a4ca02.jpg" alt=" Inside All, artwork by Holly Welch ">  Inside All, artwork by Holly Welch [/caption] 



   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/1c3a94573a.jpg" alt=" Owl Babies, artwork by Patrick Benson ">  Owl Babies, artwork by Patrick Benson [/caption] 



   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/30c7d3a063.jpg" alt=" The Serpent who came to Gloucester, artwork by Bagram Ibatoulline ">  The Serpent who came to Gloucester, artwork by Bagram Ibatoulline [/caption]

And then there is artwork that is done through different mediums. I love the creativity and work that went into creating these.

   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="311"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/7091d437ec.jpg" alt=" Teddy, by Enid Warner Romanek. (The illustrations are from etchings done on zinc plates on the artist's own etching press) ">  Teddy, by Enid Warner Romanek. (The illustrations are from etchings done on zinc plates on the artist's own etching press) [/caption] 



   [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="400"]<img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/924ba39174.jpg" alt=" The Cat Who Wouldn't Come Inside, by Cynthia von Buhler. (The illustrations are photographs of a set the artist designed and created - using clay, hand sewn clothing, a homemade dollhouse, and various other materials) ">  The Cat Who Wouldn't Come Inside, by Cynthia von Buhler. (The illustrations are photographs of a set the artist designed and created - using clay, hand sewn clothing, a homemade dollhouse, and various other materials) [/caption]

Finally, there is artwork that is just plain awesome. David Wiesner's Art & Max, for example.

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/e11caeaa32.jpg" alt="">



  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/bc04dfab5e.jpg" alt="">

What are some of your favorite illustrators?

Favorite Saying #5

Wed, 20 Feb 2013 07:00:22 -0400

Life is not a dress rehearsal.

My dad has been saying this for as long as I can remember. It isn't related to children or parenting, but it sure is relevant to life in general. Perhaps more and more so as I see how each major life decision narrows down the possible pathways my life can take from this point forward. When I was 24, my future was wide open - the person I would marry, the career path I would chose, and the kind of family I would have, none of it had been decided. Once I committed to graduate school in language acquisition, it pretty much ruled out graduate school in any other field, and once I married Dave, it ruled out marrying anyone else… and so on. Not that one can't change a career (or husband), but it is much less likely to happen, and because I decided to spend my late twenties in school, it means I will never have spent my late twenties hiking the Appalachian Trail.

While this may all sound depressing, this saying has guided my life in a very good way… like our move to Vermont. Dave and I have always wanted to raise our children in the country, closer to family. When our oldest was approaching school age, we realized this is it, there would be no do-over of where we raised our children. As we weighed the pros and cons of taking the leap to move to Vermont, I could hear my dad saying, "You know, life is not a dress rehearsal…"

Other favorite sayings:

A toy should be 10% toy and 90% child.

Boredom is the best gift you can give your child.

It is better to be 100% with your child 5% of the time than 5% with your child 100% of the time.

There is no such thing as poor weather, just poor dressing.

Worthy of Imitation

Mon, 18 Feb 2013 07:00:00 -0400

"It was not my finest parenting moment…"

I hear this a lot. I say this a lot. An admission of guilt for not having handled a situation as we might have wanted to, for not having reacted with the grace and wisdom that we are trying to impart to our children. In the Waldorf world, there is a lot of talk about "being worthy of imitation." Given that children are great imitators, we should strive to model the behavior we want to see in our children. I interpret this to include everything from basic table manners to values such as tolerance and kindness. It is a huge responsibility, being worthy of imitation, and it is challenging. I don't have trouble chewing with my mouth closed or modeling respect for others, but I do struggle to maintain a calm, collected demeanor throughout the day while taking care of three small children. I admire Katherine and Clara's teachers who achieve this grace with such ease, but I question the feasibility and desirability of parents modeling ideal behavior all of the time.

In an ideal world, no one yells in anger, or uses exaggerated sarcasm to display irritation, or stomps about to express dissatisfaction. In an ideal world, impatience would be suppressed when a child dawdles while getting ready for school. But in my reality, after telling my kids to help me clean up the playroom for the third time, I sometimes snap at them in a tone filled with irritation. When my six-year-old interrupts me repeatedly to ask me to help her with something right now, even though I am in the middle of doing something else and have asked her kindly to wait, I might burst out, full of exasperation, "Katherine, stop! I said I will help you when I am done." When I can't take one more squabble over something as inconsequential as who gets to wear the pink slippers, I threaten to take the slippers away and never ever give them back. Not my finest parenting moments. I certainly don't want to hear my kids use that exasperated, irritated tone with me or with each other, or with anyone else for that matter. But to be fair, their behavior can be really annoying, and in life, really annoying behavior has social consequences.

Functioning in society requires gauging others' communicative cues, such as tone used to express irritation and exasperation, and then perhaps adjusting one's behavior accordingly. Part of raising children means preparing them to function in society. Therefore, it would be unnatural for a parent to strive to hide or suppress a natural reaction to annoying behavior.

I do not mean to simply excuse or justify less than ideal behavior. Nor am I proposing that because my children will encounter poor behavior in the world, I'd better prepare them for it my behaving poorly myself from time to time. I firmly believe it is important to treat children with kindness, warmth, and dignity, and I believe parents are role models for children and that responsibility should be taken very seriously. But holding ourselves to the standard of always being worthy of imitation is not realistic, and unwavering calm and control - to the point of masking natural human emotions - may not serve our children well. And therein lies the balance between striving to be worthy of imitation and allowing ourselves to be real.

There will be many "not my finest parenting" moments. But instead of reliving them through admissions of guilt to our friends at the end of the day, we should accept them as part of the learning process for ourselves as parents, and for our children who are learning how to behave and how to process others' behavior.

Favorite Saying #4

Tue, 12 Feb 2013 23:59:01 -0400

A toy should be 10% toy and 90% child.

I love this quote and have found it to be so true. The less a toy does, the more my children play with it. The less defined a toy is, the more it is incorporated into their play in different ways. Cardboard boxes, ropes, blankets, and kitchen bowls are the true treasures.

I am continually surprised - or maybe impressed is the word - at how fluid children's play is and how their props morph right along with them as they move from one scenario to another. A blanket starts out as a blanket, then turns into a sled to pull a little sister across the floor, then serves as the roof to a fort, then becomes a cape - no, a bonnet, for a fairy, then is used as a sack to carry pretend food, then is turned upside down and tied to the pretend food to be dropped from the top of the stairs as a parachute… and on and on.

A bright red fire truck, complete with ladder, lights and siren? It can only be a fire truck.

Favorite Sayings #3

Wed, 06 Feb 2013 21:58:31 -0400

Boredom is the best gift you can give your child.

I just wrote about boredom a few weeks ago, and recently I have heard parents claim their children are bored in kindergarten. I wonder, and maybe even roll my eyes a little, how could a child be bored in kindergarten when their day is filled with play, crafts, stories, music, snack, walks, friends and many other activities?

It turns out that this "boredom" is not boredom at all, but rather "restlessness," which is a sign that a child is ready to move on to first grade. Who knew?! In a parent evening at Katherine's school this week, the teacher discussed the physical, behavioral and developmental indicators of first grade readiness. The following description was included on the handout under the heading Development of Intention: Dissatisfied with themselves - not sure what to do with themselves - may react with "I'm bored."

Ohhh. This is restlessness, which is not the same as boredom, even though the word boredom may be used by the child (or parent) to describe it. So I'll stop my eye rolling now when I hear of kindergarteners who are "bored" and start observing their behavior to see how exactly this restlessness presents itself in their play and activity. I have a feeling it will be fascinating.

Puffer Belly Song

Tue, 05 Feb 2013 00:03:23 -0400

I have been in DC this past week for work. I love Vermont, but it has been a great joy to wander around my old neighborhood, visit with friends and see their children, and stop in my favorite store and coffee shops (yes, one store, many coffee shops). When I walked by our old playground, I was flooded with memories. For some reason, one in particular stood out. When Katherine was three and a half we went through a phase when leaving the playground was very difficult - as in she never wanted to leave and the four block walk home was torture. I remember feeling paralyzed - with Clara in the wrap, the backpack heavy with water bottle, snack, spare clothes, diapers, etc., and a crying child who refused to walk, what could I do?

As usual when I face a child challenge, I think about what Katherine's teachers would suggest. A song. Sing a song. Something simple and rhythmic that will calm us both, center us again. The song that was in my head that day - the "Puffer Belly" song, as we now call it - got us home. For months we sang it every time we left the playground… and we made up dance steps to go along with the words. Katherine loved this routine. I had to get over my self-consciousness of singing and dancing down the street, but it beat carrying a kicking and screaming kid all the way home.

In case you have a three-and-a-half-year old who refuses to walk at inopportune times, here is our song and dance routine:

Down by the station (swing hands forward)
Early in the morning (swing hands backward)
See the little puffer bellies (kid does a twirl at "puffer belly" under mom's arm)
All in a row
See the station master (swing hands forward)
Give the starting signal (swing hands backward)
Puff Puff (stomp each foot once)
Toot toot (do two little hops)
Off they go (run forward several feet together - drag this out and run as far as possible to get home faster)

We tried making up other dances to other songs, but this was always our favorite.

Favorite Sayings #2

Tue, 29 Jan 2013 20:52:23 -0400

It is better to be 100% present with your child 5% of the time than 5% present 100% of the time.

This saying is always a good reminder for me to take a time out from my to-do list and just sit down and do something with each child each day. I don't always manage and it is a constant challenge to balance the pull to get things done and the importance of being present. I admit I get plenty of 100% time with Alexandra. Every time she nurses, I stop and just sit with her, touch her little hands, look at her round, soft face and marvel at my little baby (ok, clinging to the "little" part). I love that time. It's harder with the big sisters since they are as busy with their play as I am with my agenda, but I love when I do take the time to really be with them.

This evening I snuggled up with Katherine and read the first chapter of Little House on the Prairie. She is fascinated by the covered wagon and the big sky forming a huge circle around Laura and her family as they travel west across the plains.

It was the best 5% of my day.

  <img src="https://yellow-ladybird.micro.blog/uploads/2026/440e373bf6.jpg" alt="">

Favorite Sayings

Wed, 23 Jan 2013 22:04:08 -0400

At the risk of being cheesy, I thought I'd do a mini-series on my top five favorite sayings. These are sayings I think about daily and they serve as a guide for me in parenting, and life in general. Since it is -13 degrees today, I'll start with this one:

There is no such thing as poor weather, just poor dressing.

I first heard it from my friend Emily, and I think it originally came from a Waldorf educator somewhere in Scandinavia. As someone who gets cold hands and feet as soon as it dips below 40 degrees, I'm not always sure I agree with it, but I try. I love the message that there is no excuse for not going outside every day. Anytime I find myself leaning towards not taking the kids out (usually in rainy 35 degrees weather), I call up this saying and figure out what I need to wear to be warm. Often it requires a thermos of coffee. Interestingly, I find the kids are rarely deterred by the weather, as if they barely notice it. They play just as hard on a cold, wet day as they do on a warm, sunny day - as long as I motivate to get them outside!

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Developmental Psychology

Wed, 16 Jan 2013 23:56:23 -0400

In another part of my life, I do research in second language acquisition (how adults learn foreign language); a cross between linguistics and cognitive psychology. My research is on adults, but when Katherine was younger (before her sisters arrived and I had only one nap schedule to coordinate) I signed her up to participate in linguistic and psychology experiments on campus. These experiments were always interesting for me and fun for Katherine. I enjoyed learning about the research design, how experiments are carried out with children, how children's behavior is observed, and of course, the results when the studies are published. Katherine enjoyed the puppets and simple stories designed to present and elicit the target language or behavior of the study.

A friend of mine recently started a blog, My First Theory, that outlines simple experiments you can conduct at home to observe your child's development:

There are a lot of books that tell you how children develop. But, through this blog, I want to show you, in a way that you can re-create at home, some of the most interesting studies that researchers have designed to illuminate how children are learning. During my time as a graduate student in developmental psychology, I marveled both at the kinds of skills that young children were learning and the innovative, yet elegant ways that many researchers were testing them. Since then, I’ve thought about compiling these studies chronologically so that I could use them to learn about my own future children’s development. In talking with the parents who generously volunteered to bring their children into campus labs to participate in research, I found that many parents are interested in learning about these studies as well, but may not be familiar with them.

If you are intrigued, head on over to My First Theory and check out some of the experiments. And have fun!

Gun Play - repost

Thu, 03 Jan 2013 00:56:15 -0400

Several months ago I wrote my opinions on Gun Play. It’s been on my mind since the Newtown shooting and I’ve been struggling with whether I really do accept that gun play is an important part of a child’s play.

Last week we got together with some dear family friends and one of the children brought a pretend gun into their play. I immediately tensed up and had to resist the urge to shut down their imaginative scenario. I had to remind myself that our kids have no idea what happened in Newtown; my reaction is based on the horror of reality, while their play comes from a place of innocence. I do not want my strongly negative, emotional reaction to interfere with their natural, innocent play, but… I can’t let go of what guns mean to me.

Because I think this topic is on many parents’ minds, I thought I’d repost some thoughts from my original post.

Generally speaking, children play what they need to play in order to process their world. Most children are exposed to guns through a variety of sources, such as t.v., movies, the news, other children, and toys. Some children have parents who have to keep guns in their home because of their job, and children of military families are exposed to guns, especially if they live on a base. Whether we like it or not, guns are very present in our lives. It makes sense that children need to process this aspect of life and doing so through play is healthy.

I think it is important to also keep in mind that gun play doesn’t have the same meaning to children as it does to adults. I am horrified at the idea of my five-year-old going around pretending to shoot people. But that is based on thirty some years of experience and a mature understanding of murder and death. To a five-year-old, it is nothing more than an escalated version of tag.

As far as allowing it in my home, I follow the guidelines Katherine’s teacher uses in his classroom. I try to be aware of the effect gun play is having on the children playing it and the children nearby who are not playing it. If someone feels threatened, I intervene, but if no one feels threatened, I’ll let it go. When I do intervene, I’ll tell the gun player that the gun may not be pointed at people and I’ll try to redirect the play. Often I’ll suggest they hunt a dragon or some wild beast in the forest. Sometimes I’ll turn their pretend gun into a pretend water squirter and request that they cool me down. This usually works, but I have it easy because the girls usually lose interest pretty quickly anyway.

For parents whose children don’t lose interest so easily, I think it is possible to embrace the need for gun play. One parent I know enrolled the whole family in archery lessons. Every weekend they went into the woods together to practice their skills. They enjoyed shooting targets out in nature in a safe and healthy way. I think this approach is brilliant - it treated her son’s need and desire for gun play positively and with respect, and it brought the whole family into it in a way they could all enjoy.

As with any issue, parents need to find their own comfort level while considering their individual children. One child may really need gun play, while another child may be stuck in a gun play rut to the point of missing out on other important kinds of play. One child may play guns in a way that negatively affects others while another child may play in a way that is non-threatening. How a parent decides to deal with gun play is personal, and may change with time as the child changes.

I have to say, though, despite my views that gun play is generally ok, I still bristle every time it comes home. It will probably always be difficult for me to balance my knowledge of guns and their role in society with the need my kids have to process their world through play.

I would love to hear your thoughts and approach to gun play. How do you handle it in your home?

Christmas Gift

Sun, 30 Dec 2012 15:12:17 -0400

Welcome to my Christmas gift! I asked Dave for threaded comments, and with them I got a new, clean, uncluttered design. There may be a few more changes to come, Dave says he's not quite done.

We had a quiet Christmas. We enjoyed a few of our old traditions -- fondue dinner on Christmas Eve, reading favorite Christmas books, Christmas Tree decorating (small hands rearranging the ornaments daily), and a Christmas Day hike; and a few new traditions -- sledding(!), snowshoeing, and dessert with neighbors.

I'm going to take a few more days off, to give my eyes a nice, long break from the computer screen and let Dave finish his redesign. I'm looking forward to your comments and now I can reply to each one individually!

Happy New Year!

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A Little Goodness

Wed, 19 Dec 2012 21:51:38 -0400

We received an article from Katherine’s school titled, “How Do I Find and Create Goodness for My Children” (by Susan Weber of Sophia’s Hearth Family Center) to help us parents deal with difficult times or events in the presence of our children. It offers the following advice:

Take a walk, find your way into nature, hold deep in memory the most recent good thing we have encountered. Begin and end your day with a gratitude for the good in our lives - however challening this may feel at moments…and see if, step by tiny step, you can rediscover, in difficult times, that the world is truly good.

There are many good things in life, and one of them arrived in the mail yesterday. Every year for as long as I can remember, my Aunt and Uncle have sent our family a box of Christmas cookies. When I moved into my own place, I was surprised that first Christmas to receive my own box - and every year since a box of cookies has appeared a few weeks before Christmas. It is one of my favorite things about the holidays and it is connected to many good memories.

I’m not sure cookies are exactly what Susan Weber has in mind when she refers to the wonder and miracles of the universe, but they represent something good in the world, and I’m holding that deep in my memory this week.

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Holding Newtown in my thoughts

Sun, 16 Dec 2012 11:03:46 -0400

After Friday, I tried to write down some of my thoughts, hoping it would help me process what happened, if that is even possible. I’m not sure this is the right place for them, but if nothing else, they mark a pause for the families of Newtown.

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When I heard there had been another school shooting, my first instinct was to reject it, to hold my ears the way a child would to keep the information out. But of course I couldn’t and the expected range of emotions flooded my mind as I tried to assimilate the news. Unable to tolerate even a hint of any one emotion, I involuntarily shut each one down before it took hold and overwhelmed me. A protective reflex. I tried to bring up words to describe how I felt in hopes of grounding myself in rational thought, channeling the emotion into a format I could process. But there are no words… the ones that I came up with were hopelessly shallow, cliché. It’s better to be silent.

Today I went Christmas shopping with my older daughter, my 6-year-old. We’ve been planning this outing for a week. As we walked to town, she skipped and trotted and talked my ear off with her ideas for presents for her sisters. The air was chilly, the sky a piercing blue. I squinted against the bright winter sun, feeling both irritated and reassured that it rose on schedule today. I want life to pause to let the devastation sink in; instead I am numbly propelled forward as the day continues at its usual pace, unaware.

Like every other parent who did not lose a child yesterday, I am grateful that my children are safe and sound, sleeping in their beds. But I also feel intense relief that it wasn’t my town, my school, my family. It is appropriate to be grateful for the safety and health of one’s own children, but to feel relief that it was someone else’s? As I sort through the guilt of voicing that statement, I recognize an acceptance and helplessness that it will be someone’s child. In that acceptance, I go on with life knowing the horror of this particular instance will fade; in that helplessness, I live every day with the fear that at some point it might be my child, and there is nothing I can do to prevent it.

I know people will pause for as long as they can, but time will sweep us back into the norm, mercifully, rightfully, allowing us to heal. But with healing comes acceptance, and we should never accept that a gunman murdered 20 children. No matter how well time relieves us of this intense grief, we should never give in to the acceptance.

Mind Jar

Tue, 11 Dec 2012 21:57:58 -0400

People tend to either love glitter or hate glitter. I fall in the “love” glitter camp. I have always loved glitter, and if I ever broke out of my brown/beige/black/gray and sometimes navy blue wardrobe, I would wear things with glitter. I wouldn’t even mind glitter all over my house, the mere sight of something sparkly makes me happy. But not everyone here feels that way, so I don’t get to have glitter around as much as I might want. However, Katherine agrees with me that glitter is wonderful, so we made Mind Jars for her birthday party favors. Mind jars are perfect. The glitter is contained but as beautiful as ever. I now have one sitting on my desk.

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The idea is that when a child (or adult) needs a few minutes to calm down, he/she takes the jar, shakes it up, and watches the glitter sparkle and swirl until it settles at the bottom.

We’ve used the Mind Jar twice this week to help calm a child. The other day, Katherine was frustrated and impatient with her sister, who admittedly was getting in the way. I could hear the escalating unkindness between them (read: Katherine was about to get really mad), so I had her go up to her room with the Mind Jar, sit on her bed, shake it up, watch it, and come down ready to play when all the glitter had settled. It worked! She happily went up to her room, and came back down five minutes later, calm and relaxed, ready to play.

Today, Dave used it with Clara who was having a tantrum of unknown origin. He sat down with her and the mind jar (probably not wise to let a tantruming child go off on her own with a glass jar) and had her shake it. Clara wasn’t all that interested in watching it, but she did want to hold it. So Dave told her she could hold it and keep it stirred up until she was ready to let it calm down. When she was ready to let it settle, she was also settled. As we say, she had found her calm.

So… novelty effect or magic solution?

Mind Jars are easy to make: mix glitter glue and hot water in a jar, you can add extra glitter if you think it needs more.

Compassion Parenting

Thu, 06 Dec 2012 08:40:00 -0400

The other day I was out and about with Clara and Alexandra. At the check out counter in a store, a man observed Clara helping me unload our basket, while Alexandra watched from the Ergo. He asked Clara if she was the big sister. “No,” replied Clara. “Katherine is the big sister.”

It dawned on me that Clara may not appreciate her position in the middle. From my point of view, coming from a two-sibling family, she occupies the fortunate place as both big sister and little sister. What could be better?! But to her, she may be neither. She does not hold the “big sister” title, and she has lost her place as the youngest, a displacement that coincides with her natural transition from toddler and girl.

As is typical of age three, she is now more little girl than toddler, though she still switches between the two regularly, seeking more independence, but not quite ready to let go of the benefits of a close attachment to me. One moment she wants to do it by herself, like Katherine, the next she is Alexandra, crawling on the floor. In the midst of this transition, as I remember well from Katherine’s third year, she is making sure we know it is still our job as parents to take care of her and keep her safe. She is testing us. Constantly.

But of course it is very different than it was the first time around. With Katherine, I was coming off a beautiful first two years during which I had the time, energy, and patience to parent exactly as I pleased, with no distractions or competing factors. This time, I am also caring for a 5-year-old and an infant. I find myself addressing Clara’s behavior as I would Katherine’s, offering a consequence that is too complex for a three-year-old; or not following through with an appropriate consequence because I am mid diaper change.

It’s no wonder, then, why Clara continues to slam the door, or draw on the furniture with crayon, or throw her food on the floor. She is looking to me for a solid, direct response, an “I see you and I am here to take care of you” response.

Removed from the situation, I know exactly how I would like to address her actions: age-appropriate consequences communicated calmly, kindly, and firmly. But in the moment I struggle to suppress the frustration, the Why can’t you just response that is so easy to throw out in the midst of the chaos. I let frustration overrule compassion. And Clara calls me on it, slamming the door again, even harder, then smiling at me for good measure.

Compassion. The key sentiment in effective parenting. When I take a moment to step back and slow down (doesn’t it always come back to slowing down?) I see Clara’s behavior in all its three-year-old charm. I feel pride in her mischievous grin as she blatantly disobeys. I admire her sense of humor as she teases Katherine. And I feel compassion for her place between being baby and girl, little sister and big sister. Suddenly, I am connected to her again, and no matter what she does, she’s just doing what all three-year-olds are supposed to do. She’s making sure I am parenting her.

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A Waldorf Birthday Celebration

Tue, 04 Dec 2012 08:00:00 -0400

Seventeen children sit in little wooden chairs, their cheeks rosy from the cold outside. Muffled sounds of feet shuffling and chairs creaking warm the room as they fidget and settle into their places, but no one talks. They are waiting for the birthday celebration to begin. The teacher walks Katherine into the classroom, gently wraps a white silk around her shoulders, and begins the birthday story.

A big angel and a little angel are playing catch with a ball. The big angel throws the ball, but the little angel misses it, and the ball falls through the clouds, leaving a hole for the little angel to look through. Peeking down through the clouds, the little angel sees Earth. She realizes her work in the houses of the stars is done. She is ready to go to Earth. The big angel travels with the little angel around the world in search of her parents. They see a family in a cold, wintry land; They look very nice, but they are not my parents, says the little angel. They see a family in the cobbled streets of Paris; They look very nice, but they are not my parents, says the little angel. They see a family in the hot sun, on a beach by the sparkling blue ocean; They look very nice, but they are not my parents, says the little angel. The little angel begins to feel sad that she has not found her parents. But then, the big angel and little angel see a mom and a dad waiting for their child, and the little angel recognizes them right away as her parents. The big angel removes the little angel’s wings and carefully sets them aside; she will need them again when she is done on Earth. The little angel happily crosses over the Rainbow Bridge into the arms of her loving parents. Her name will be Katherine.

Katherine walks across the rainbow silk laid out in the middle of the circle and sits in her chair in between us and her two sisters. Her face is bright with joy. The teacher lights five candles as we share a memory from each year of her life.

When Katherine was born… We snuggled her into the wrap and went for long walks around the capitol.

When Katherine was one… She loved to help dad make pizza, kneading the dough and shaping it into a ball, then flattening it into a crust.

When Katherine was was two… She enjoyed outings to the Botanic Gardens where she played in the children’s garden, splashing in the fountains.

When Katherine was three… She and her sister played together, Katherine can make Clara laugh better than anyone else.

When Katherine was four… She went on a special mother-daughter trip to Boston to visit Auntie M. She got to ride the T.

When Katherine was five… She loved swimming with her friend in the pool.

And now Katherine is six. A happy birthday song.

Happy birthday, happy birthday, we love you.

Happy birthday, happy birthday, hope your dreams come true.

When you blow out the candles, there is one that stays aglow.

That’s the one that’s in your heart wherever you may go.

Happy birthday, happy birthday, we love you.

Katherine opens the gift from her teachers, a yellow felted sack with six marbles. She walks around the circle, showing each of her classmates her new treasures. The children admire the marbles and point out their favorites. Then it is time for the birthday snack of fruit salad, whipped cream, and walnuts.

It was a perfect celebration. A roomful of children listening intently, quietly, to the birthday story, sharing in Katherine’s joy as she traveled around the circle and across the bridge to her family. The wonder and beauty the teachers create is just as it should be for our five - now six - year old.

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Perspective

Tue, 27 Nov 2012 08:40:13 -0400

Monday came and went and it was nothing to worry about. The tension of waiting has dissolved and a bad day is once again defined by trivial inconveniences, the cat throwing up on our bed, running out of coffee beans, a tantrum about getting dressed. But I am not rolling my eyes “at how worked up I let myself get” and I will not simply “go back to my old life.” My perspective has changed.

Head over to Mamalode to read the rest… a little follow up to Most likely, it’s nothing.

Lantern Walk

Wed, 14 Nov 2012 00:00:56 -0400

This evening was Katherine’s lantern walk. At our old school, we would gather in a park and walk through the city-lit neighborhood, sharing with the greater community. At our new school, we walk in the darkness through the apple orchard and meadow. Two very different experiences, both beautiful and simple. I love the long line of lanterns, flickering about a foot off the ground as the preschool and kindergarten children walk along, singing the lantern song. This is one of my (many) favorite Waldorf traditions.

I go with my bright little lantern

My lantern is going with me.

In heaven the stars are shining,

On Earth shines my lanter for me.

The light grows dim as we go in

La bimbala bambala bay.

And then home to a warm dinner.

Most likely, it's nothing

Wed, 07 Nov 2012 07:30:00 -0400

It’s nothing. Most likely it’s nothing, I tell myself for the 100th time. I take a deep breath and move on.

Five minutes later, I pause to look at my middle daughter, with her beautiful, smooth hair hanging straight. The kind of hair I’ve always longed for. She swings it off her face with a slight jerk of her head and catches me watching her. She smiles slowly. I’m never quite sure what she is thinking. She seems so tough, her thoughts well hidden. But I am her mom and I know there is a depth to her she doesn’t let surface for others to see.

I suddenly feel like shrieking, “She needs me! I have to be here for her.”

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You can read the rest over at Mamalode, an online parenting magazine I recently discovered. I’m excited to have an essay posted on their site (even if it is a distressing subject). And while you’re there, check out Stacey Conner’s writing. She’s amazing.

[And so that no one worries, Monday came and went, and it is nothing.]

Pacing the Holiday Season

Tue, 06 Nov 2012 00:49:00 -0400

November is here, the days are decidedly shorter and the sunlight thinner, bringing a chill with its warmth. November makes me happy, though. It holds all the anticipation of the holidays without any obligation or expectation. This brief moment on the edge of the season is when I feel most festive. As Christmas approaches, I find myself struggling to find my holiday spirit, feeling simultaneously overwhelmed (and disappointed) by the commercialization of the season and anticipating its abrupt end on the 26th, with only New Years to mark one final day off before the long haul until spring begins.

Gloomy, I know. But I have found it helps to spread out our family traditions over the all three months, November, December, and into January. Most importantly, we want the season to be more than a two-month long build up to Christmas morning. Last year we made an effort to pace the build-up and minimize the let-down, and I think we all savored the season a little more. This year I hope to do so even more.

I am making an effort to pause and fully enjoy these first few weeks of November. This means completely ignoring the mass media focus on Christmas that tries to overrun Thanksgiving by bombarding everyone with “buy-more-crap-so-you-can-have-a-merrier-Christmas” advertising. Actually, that is not true. I go off on a good, long rant about consumerism, the loss of true holiday spirit, and how when I was a kid Christmas did not start a day before December 1st. Once that is out of my system, I completely tune out all mention of Christmas, including my kids’ begging me to play carols and bring out the Christmas books, and I enjoy November. A lantern walk, making candles, Thanksgiving, Katherine’s birthday.

Then it is December and talk of Christmas is welcome. But even now, I try to make the holiday activities span the entire month. Baking cookies happens early in the month, making ornaments and Christmas tree decorating is mid-month, and gift shopping/making is usually a last minute frenzy born out of procrastination and indecision. One of our favorite activities, ginger bread houses, is saved for after the 25th. It is a three-day process (making the ginger bread, building the house, decorating the house) that fills the week of the 26th. We all look forward to it and it carries me through the days that have always felt rather empty and listless. New Year’s Day will be a family hike.

I’m not quite sure how to spread holiday activities into January. I’m thinking maybe January will be bread making month, starting out with my mom’s delicious New Year’s bread (which every year I vow to make, and then never do), and then trying a new holiday-ish recipe each week. I just saw a Chai-Spiced Tea Loaf recipe…

And now that we live in Vermont, we’re looking forward to outdoor winter activities. For Katherine and Clara, that means ice skating (on a pond, for free) and sledding. For me, it means snowshoeing. For Alexandra, it means riding on my back while I snowshoe. For Dave, it means shoveling snow (which is what he gets for looking at me blankly and then ignoring my question when I asked what winter activities he is looking forward to).

Halloween Costumes Part II

Wed, 31 Oct 2012 20:06:24 -0400

The costumes were completed today, just in time. The twirly skirt, as expected, was not twirly, but the poofy, orange mesh more than made up for it. The Green Puppy Dog turned out better than expected considering I put off making the ears, paws, and tail (basically, the entire costume) until late last night.

Here they are, the witch anxiously awaiting her friend,

while walking the puppy.

I love Halloween. I love the creativity of costume making and pumpkin carving, the magic of going out after dark, and the fact that it is totally normal to go around to strangers’ houses and ask for - and receive - candy. I love visiting neighbors and seeing friends’ children all dressed up. I love the sense of community. I love (being) the Halloween Fairy, who comes and trades most of the candy for a few special gifts. I’m not sure how long that will last, though, since Clara claimed tonight that she wanted the Fairy to visit Katherine, but not her.

And finally, I love that Halloween feels like the kickoff into the winter season.

Happy Halloween. Welcome November.

The Challenge of Three

Tue, 30 Oct 2012 20:45:12 -0400

When my sister and I were growing up, our parents always made sure we each had one-on-one time with them. A trip (on the commuter train!) to the city to go window shopping, a long bike ride to the Botanic Gardens, a quick outing to get a chocolate malt at the best chocolate malt place ever, an evening walk. These outings were treasured time. We looked forward to our “time alone” and it provided a standing occasion for us to open up and talk about whatever we wanted. I credit “time alone” for the good relationship I had with my parents throughout childhood, even especially during those crappy teenage years. It’s important to me to establish time alone as part of the routine with my own children. But we’re failing miserably and I’ve decided that is my challenge of three.

As a friend said of having three, “Someone always needs something.” At first, this statement rang true on a logistical level. “I need help with my socks!” “Nowww can we go biking?” “I want an apple, you said I could have an apple!” “I have to pee! I’m peeing!!” The requests come one after another, with pockets of quiet play lasting just long enough for me to start making plans. Cinnamon rolls, I could make cinnamon rolls. Tea! I’ll sit down and have a cup of tea! I may even get as far as melting the butter. Then, someone needs something, the butter hardens in the pot and the tea sits black and cold on the counter.

But the logistics are manageable now, thanks to my excellent one-handed nursing, dressing, feeding, and wiping skills. I may not get to drink my tea, but I can meet those needs. The true challenge is that everyone wants and needs time alone with mom or dad. Alexandra, the all-night nursing monster, gets plenty of one-on-one with me. But for Katherine and Clara, it is trickier. We do find time alone with each of them - a hike in the woods, a walk to the cafe, an art project in the afternoon - but it is not regular and they can’t count it. I sense their anxiety in not knowing when they will have their time. I see, and share, their sadness when our time alone comes to an end, wondering when we’ll find another moment for just the two of us. Building it into the routine would be reassuring to them, and I suspect it would help on the sibling rivalry front, as well.

But putting time alone for each child into the schedule is hard. Our weekday routine already feels full with work and school, which makes weekends our best bet for solo-kid outings. But I have to admit, it is hard for us parents to sacrifice the only time we have to parent together. Plus, family outings are fun, a time for us to all connect after a week of juggling schedules.

And so this is our challenge with three. Please, parents of many, share how you manage time alone with each child?

Halloween Costumes Part I

Wed, 17 Oct 2012 21:10:31 -0400

In my mind I have lots of grand sewing projects, but I never carry them out, or even start them for that matter. I blame it on the fact that I don’t have a sewing machine, or a sewing room, or a sewing day… lots of excuses. But every Halloween I pull it together and get crafty. I have this thing about making Halloween costumes and I like that once a year sewing becomes a priority.

This year Katherine wants to be a “Halloween Witch” and Clara requested a “Green Puppy Dog” costume. Katherine picked out some fancy Halloween fabric for a twirly skirt. She’s hoping my effort this year will result in a proper twirly skirt since last year’s Yellow Fairy skirt didn’t end up twirly enough. Clara will get felt ears and paws and a finger-knit tail temporarily sewn onto a green hooded sweatshirt. She also wants a collar (made out of the fancy fabric she picked out) and a leash so the witch can “walk her.” I’m thinking about that one. Alexandra will be a cute little teddy bear and simply wear her LL Bean fleece coveralls that happen to have ears.

I’m not sure these qualify as “grand sewing projects,” but it is fun to put them together and the girls enjoy the process.

Here are tonight’s efforts. I can already tell the skirt will fail on the twirly front.

Pets & Owners

Tue, 16 Oct 2012 17:52:23 -0400

As a follow-up to last week’s post on Giving, I thought I’d share this wonderful new blog, Pets & Owners.

Fostering or adopting a pet is a wonderful way for children to help care for animals who need a home. It can teach children responsibility, compassion, and respect for other living creatures. Plus the whole family benefits from the joy a pet can bring to a home, from stress relief and exercise to a soft, loyal friend. I’ve always said a purring cat on my lap can get me out of just about any funk.

Head on over and read happy stories about rescued pets and their owners. Send in your own pet’s story! You might even see this fine fellow featured there one of these days.

Giving

Sun, 14 Oct 2012 20:43:31 -0400

I’ve mentioned before that I love the blog Rage Against the Minivan. Kristen is a great writer and funny. Really funny. She describes herself as a social activist and is passionate about her causes. She is one of those people who goes out and does something. She gives.

I am passionate about a lot of things, but it tends to manifest itself in the form of strong opinions, judgments and rants. I rarely do anything. Every once in a while I’ll have a burst of generosity and give. Like the time we sponsored a goat whose milk goes to a homeless shelter, or my occasional contribution to friends’ fundraising efforts. But these are all small-scale, one-time donations. I have never made an effort to find my own cause and really commit to it. I would like to change that, and more importantly, I want my children to feel responsibility for caring for our world.

I’m not quite sure what this responsibility should look like or how and at what age it should be communicated to children. My own hesitation stems from a combination of feeling like I can’t make a difference and feeling overwhelmed by the injustices in life. How can a parent communicate the concepts behind charity and also empower a child in a way that is age appropriate?

I don’t want to burden my young children with the knowledge of homelessness, poverty, hunger. A child with no family. A tortured and abandoned animal. A family who has lost everything. Disease. How will they understand that? Is it right to put that on a child at age five? Six? What effect does it have on a young child to know the realities of the world?

These early years should be filled with wonder, joy, and beauty. If children grow up to cherish these qualities in life, then as adults they will fight to preserve them - for themselves and for others. But I do think community service in some form should be a part of early childhood. How does one foster compassion and a spirit of giving in a young child without asking them to carry the knowledge of devastation?

Kristen has each of her children sponsor a child. They exchange letters, learn about each other’s culture, and develop a relationship. This seems like a nice balance. Caring for an animal that needs a home. Preparing meals for a family in need. These seem like small, but meaningful ways to engage children in caring for our world. Perhaps it is possible to keep the reality simple and matter of fact so that the child can help give while the parent carries the burden.

I hope as my children get older it will become obvious when they are cognitively ready to take on some of the burden themselves, and simultaneously become more capable of giving.

What do you do to foster a sense of charity in young children? How do you engage your children in caring for our world?

Ungrounded

Mon, 08 Oct 2012 23:46:03 -0400

I’m looking for a word to describe where I am. Ungrounded is the word I think I want, but the dictionary defines it as having no basis or justification; unfounded. That isn’t quite right. The word I want is the opposite of grounded, but antonyms of grounded include afloat, adrift, drifting. Those aren’t quite right either.

We have been in Vermont for seven weeks and it has been everything we hoped it would be. Ideals rarely live up to expectations, especially when the ideal becomes the be all end all and obscures reality. Yet Vermont’s reality matches our ideal. Perhaps we (finally) have some life wisdom and were able to manage our expectations of this ideal over the years. Or perhaps any outdoorsy place with trees and hills would have done after the intensity of our city life. Regardless, we got here and, against the odds, it is exactly what we thought it would be.

But at the same time that I feel overwhelming relief to have finally arrived here, I find myself in that strange space in between novelty and home. The drive to Katherine’s school is routine now and I anticipate the curves in the road. If I turn down a dirt road I can generally orient myself by the main road I come out on; I have many “Oh, I know where we are!”s. People continue to be helpful, easy going, friendly, but now my pleasant surprise is an afterthought, no longer worthy of exclamation. The intensity of the newness has faded into the background. But it does not yet feel like home.

It feels like it will be home, but it is not yet. At home I knew how our street looked through all seasons. With the arrival of fall I looked forward to that one maple tree at the playground turning a fiery red, all aglow as the sun set on it. I knew what friends to expect at the park on a cold and wet winter afternoon. I knew where all the best spring gardens were in the neighborhood.

In the midst of fall here, what was a familiar view of green from our front door two weeks ago is now a completely different scene of empty trees thinly revealing the mountains in the distance. I did not expect that. My surroundings fluctuate between familiar and novel and I have no idea what will come next, leaving me feeling ungrounded.

I find myself longing for our old apartment (the one I couldn’t wait to get out of) because it holds six years of memories. Despite all I didn’t like about city life, we were grounded there. If I could just slip back into our old living room for 15 minutes, the familiarity would steady me. My eyes would not have to adjust, I would not have to look twice at the crayon mark on the wall or the leaf collage hanging in the window. I would probably not even see them. They would not take any energy.

I’ve been told it takes a year to adjust to a major life change. A cycle of seasons. Next year we will have memories mixed in. I will be able to look at the trees and see their beauty without it also being new. The familiar will steady me.

Slowly we will become grounded here. But in the meantime, I am left ungrounded.

BLW... a follow-up

Sat, 06 Oct 2012 23:48:49 -0400

A few weeks ago my sister wrote a guest post on Baby Led Weaning. We have been following this method with Alexandra for several weeks now. I love the idea and rationale behing BLW. It just makes sense to me. But I have to admit it isn’t quite as easy as I thought it would be.

Our first challenge was where to sit Alexandra during meals. She still isn’t sitting up on her own - the kid crawls, climbs stairs, and pulls herself to standing using anything available, but she has never gotten herself into to a sitting position (strange, right?). Since I don’t like the idea of putting babies in a chair before they are able to attain and hold a sitting position on their own, we started off by holding Alexandra on our laps during meals. However, she is super squirmy and seems to prefer eating upside down. She will twist and turn and arch until she is leaning way back, and then cackle with delight. Plus she is strong and it takes both arms to hold her in a position suitable for eating, making it impossible for the holder to eat his/her meal. We ended up putting her in a high chair. It isn’t great since she is tippy, but tippy is better than upside down. And Dave and I want to eat too.

Our second challenge is that she gags on everything. She gnaws on her food, softening it up quite nicely just as she is supposed to, but then she gags. And gags and gags. It is awful to watch. I know her gag reflex is forward so the food is not actually threatening to choke her, and I know she’ll get it out on her own, but I just can’t get used to the gagging. It is not at all relaxing.

Our third challenge is what to give her at the table. It often seems our meals aren’t quite right for her… nuts (we eat a lot of nuts), soup (which she can’t really manage on her own), small bits and pieces (like beans), or uncooked vegetables that are way too hard for her to deal with (although they are great for teething). We end up giving her bread, cheese, and vegetables meal after meal when we get the impression from BLW that she is supposed to be eating what we are eating. What are we missing here?

But despite these challenges, Alexandra does love mealtime. She enjoys handling her food and trying everything. That is the point, right? As for the weaning part… well, she is not leading in that direction yet.

What are your experiences with BLW? Do you have any advice for us?

(Alexandra has no idea she has broccoli hanging out of her mouth… it was there for a long time.)

Too many toys!

Wed, 03 Oct 2012 07:04:00 -0400

When we were preparing to move to Vermont, Dave and I divided up the work. I declared I would pack all the toys. I packed two boxes and then decided it probably made the most sense for me to take the kids to stay with family for a week and let Dave do all the packing and moving (it’s up for debate who had the easier job: Dave packing and moving all by himself for five days or traveling for five days with three small children). Anyway, I pride myself in keeping the number of toys we have to a minimum, but those two boxes barely made a dent. So when we arrived here we only unpacked about a quarter of the toys, following Kim John Payne’s advice to get rid of half of the toys, and then get rid of half again. It has been interesting observing how this decrease has (not) affected the kids’ play.

First, I don’t even think the kids notice that three quarters of their toys are gone. I’m sure it helps that we are in a new place so the absence of certain beloved items isn’t as obvious. The fairy wings aren’t missing from their spot because they have never had a spot here.

Second, they seem to treasure little things even more. I didn’t unpack their collection of race cars, but two emerged from the depths of an old backpack one afternoon and Katherine and Clara have discovered the simple joy of racing their little cars for hours. I don’t remember this happening when we had the whole box out.

Third, they fight over stuff just as much as they did before. More toys, fewer toys… doesn’t matter. They’ll find something to fight about. The only time they never fight is when they are outside and there are no toys.

Fourth, they’ll create what they need for their play out of other stuff. Like cardboard boxes and paper. Katherine has always made what she is lacking out of paper, from swords to jewelry, ice skates to scooters… all the things other kids have that we deny her (and then eventually give in to because it’s kind of sad when her cardboard scooter doesn’t hold up on the sidewalk outside). She continues her paper creations to fill in whatever she needs. Lately it has been paper money and coins for “tolls.”

Fifth, they know there are a bunch of half unpacked boxes in the spare room and once in a while they sneak in to take a peak. If they spot something they want, they beg and beg for it. It would be really annoying, but it reassures me that my plan to swap in these toys on really cold winter days is a good one.

Sixth, all three girls are perfectly content with their play. It doesn’t seem like the toys have a lot to do with it.

Finally, despite having only one quarter of the toys, they still manage to make a complete mess.

Nursing Monster

Sun, 30 Sep 2012 07:00:00 -0400

If you are wondering why I’m coasting along with little stories, poems (not my own), and “this moment”s, it is because I have created - for the third time - a nursing monster. No need to go into why this happens with each kid. It is obvious. Despite having read the sleep books and watched other frustrated parents in the same situation (and generously offered my hypocritical advise), I am weak and always go for the easy, quick-fix, solution: nurse the crying baby.

So now I can’t get anything done in the evening.

My nursing monster insists on nursing every 30 minutes from 8pm - 12am, and then every 2-3 hours until 7am. If I don’t oblige, she cries her saddest cry. She also has an “efficiency sensor.” Actually, all my kids have this, but it seems to kick in at about 6 months. As soon as I am actually getting something done, her little sensor goes off and wakes her up. Only nursing will turn it off again.

Maybe there is some kind of sleep training that would work if we really committed to it. But I already know we won’t do that. We’ll just wait it out. Besides, she is so warm and snuggly, and soon she’ll be five and all knees and elbows and snuggling won’t be the same.

So, my sweet little nursing monster. Unproductive evenings, sleepless nights, and caffeinated days it is. And lots of picture posts.

Good thing you are so cute (even when you are blurry).

Apple Poem

Tue, 25 Sep 2012 21:58:20 -0400

This is one of my favorite seasonal poems. I first learned it in a parent-toddler class with Katherine. The teacher recited it using a basket filled with green, yellow, and red silks and apples as her props. She slowly revealed the apples from under the silks and the children sat in silence, mesmerized by the words and movement.

There are several variations, and I think it is also a song. Here is the one we enjoy in our home.

“What hue shall my apples be?”
Asked the little apple tree.
“That is easy to decide;
Make them green,” the grasses cried.
But the crimson roses said,
“We should like to have them red,”
While the dandelions confessed
Yellow seemed to them the best.

When the apples all were ripe,
Many wore a yellow stripe.
Some were red and some were seen,
dressed in coats of softest green.

(Ideally one would also have a red silk and a green apple… I’ve been putting off posting this poem for weeks thinking I’d somehow acquire those things, but alas, I did not and I’m impatient and wanted to share. So here you see a quality yellow silk, green mesh, and three red apples - one with a sort-of yellow stripe. But you get the idea.)

Does it matter?

Tue, 11 Sep 2012 23:33:00 -0400

A few months ago I was rambling on to my dad about some parenting decision I had made. My dad, being generally uninterested in parenting-related topics, listened patiently, and then replied that he had never spent any time thinking about these things and did I really think any of this mattered?

It is a fair question. I’ve been thinking about it, wondering with each post I write if and how any of it matters. I admit that sometimes even I feel like rolling my eyes at the energy we put into parenting. Who cares?! In the bigger picture, does it really matter that one mother feeds her kids organic millet muffins and doesn’t let them play with battery operated plastic toys, while another mother encourages her kids to play with the latest iPad math app while they snack on oreos? Are these parenting trends just creating a platform for bored, intellectually-deprived parents to relentlessly judge each other? Or perhaps they simply provide some sort of scale for us to assess our success in a generally thankless job.*

When I consider the bigger picture of real world problems (war, poverty, hunger) and devastating tragedies (loss of child, disease, shootings), which seem to be hitting closer to home these days, I lose interest in organic anything. We all love our children and are doing the best we can for our families. Who cares about the details? Besides, I’m pretty sure my Disney-deprived child and the 5-year-old neighbor who knows all the Disney movies by heart will have similar lives. Most likely they’ll both finish high school, have hobbies they enjoy, go to college, get married, have children, be good friends for life and look back on childhood happily, reminiscing about how crazy their respective parents were. This scenario has existed for generations, regardless of the current parenting trends and debates. It doesn’t matter.

Except that it does matter. It matters on a global level. It matters for society.

To take an extreme example, which probably does not apply to the readership of this blog but makes a point, the rise in childhood obesity and diabetes is a direct result of our society’s eating and exercise habits, which reflect parenting decisions about nutrition, screen time, and physical activity.

An example that is probably more relevant is Lori Gottlieb’s attribution of the increase in depression and anxiety to protective, helicopter parents who overindulge their children. These children, who were given endless choices and had their problems solved for them, are now depressed and anxious, which, she claims, directly reflects parenting decisions.

A recent article by Kim John Payne discusses the long-term results of super-structured kids, and warns that “subjecting a child to a life of super structured and fast-paced activity in order to prepare him/her for the world is a well-meaning falsehood and a more than serious mistake.” Extrapolating from Payne, depriving children of the opportunity to play has a negative effect on the development of creativity, which in turn inhibits our nation’s capability in innovation and problem solving. Therefore, the parenting decision to sign a child up for piano, French, soccer, ballet, swimming, and chess, in other words, the decision to subscribe to a super-structured environment for children, does impact the direction and effectiveness of our society.

On a much darker level, allowing children to watch movies, TV, commercials (many of which show violence) and play video games in which shooting, bombs, car crashes, etc. are graphically presented (as opposed to leaving it up to the imagination of the child, and thus keeping it imaginary) may be contributing to the increase in violence.

On a more philosophical side, given Carr’s convincing theory that information technology shapes cognitive development, decisions about if, when, and how often we allow our children to use the internet and other technological tools are already influencing intellectual and cultural evolution, and not for the better.

So, yes. I believe parenting choices do matter. This doesn’t mean any given parenting choice is right or wrong, nor does any given choice reflect how much a parent loves his/her child. It’s not about my decision to save Disney movies for when my children are much older, or let my children decorate (and eat) a store-bought, non-organic cake with m&ms for a birthday celebration. Any discussion at that level tends towards judgment, superiority complexes, friction in friendships, and mommy-wars. But we should be thoughtful about how we are raising and educating our children. We have a responsibility to consider the effects of trends on child development and on society as a whole. Discussions about parenting should continue.

It does matter.

(And if I’m wrong, at least thinking about it will stimulate those of us who are indeed intellectually deprived in our parenting role.)

*No, I don’t think all parents are intellectually-deprived and judgmental, nor do I believe parenting is thankless. But I do believe these sentiments exist on some level at some point in time for most parents, and are therefore worthy of mention here.

An Anti-App Rant

Sat, 08 Sep 2012 21:57:57 -0400

My sister recently asked me if I would ever come right out and write how I really feel about certain topics. In real life, I’m opinionated and not very quiet about it, but I have tried to make this space a place where I keep things neutral. My goal is to share my parenting experiences, thoughts, and challenges in a way that doesn’t alienate or offend anyone. Where I have a strong opinion, I try to express it through questions rather than statements. It is an exercise for me and I enjoy the challenge.

But… sometimes I do long to just go off on a good, old fashioned rant, complete with sarcasm and italics for emphasis. My sister’s prompting tempted me. Then she sent me a link to this article and now I can’t resist. This article is over the top and deserves an over the top response.

If you are pro-technology for young children and think apps are the greatest thing ever, go hang out with Rage Against the Minivan (she’ll provide hours of entertainment) and come back here another day. If you are anti-technology for young children, read the article and join in!

Here goes.

………………………………………….

This article represents exactly what I abhor about our society: technology geared for adults, packaged for kids. It’s not that I believe a young child should never ever play with an app. In certain situations it may be useful, for example, on a plane ride across the country with a two-year old (but please turn down the sound so others don’t have to listen to it!), a long car ride with squabbling siblings, or an out-of-the-blue work call from your boss during the witching hour. But Kit Eaton’s enthusiasm over apps for babies and toddlers indicates it is not a once-in-a-while-desperate-to-keep-my-kids-quiet kind of thing.

So here are my enthusiastic responses:

…aimed at babies from 3 months up, and the interface is simple enough that older babies will be able to play by themselves.

For a three-month old?! Their eye sight is just developing and you want to put them in front of a little screen with artificial, bright light and flashing images? Infants need natural light and they need to develop their sight for the scale and distances that exist in their physical world. At least let them develop their vision before you bombard them with “rapid-fire scene changes.”

Which brings me to your next point:

Younger babies will like the rapid-fire scene changes.

Excellent. Train them early to have a short attention span and be limited to shallow thought processing. Rapid-fire scene changes do not give people, especially young children, the chance to process. If you really want them to learn, slow everything down and limit the amount of information.

Sometimes you just need five minutes of calm while your baby settles down, so try Talking Tom Cat…It’s noisy, cute and teaches your babies about interactive graphics — certain to be a big part of their lives.

Yes, sometimes we all need five minutes of calm. But rather than distract your (probably over-stimulated) child from the settling process with even more noise, why not help him/her learn techniques to soothe him/herself? Maybe sing a quieting down song? Maybe rock your baby and let the slow motion calm you both? To put it bluntly, maybe you could parent your child instead of letting a machine do it at a time he/she needs you the most! And is it really a good time to “teach” your baby when he/she is trying to settle down?

Apps can even replace a baby rattle.

Why do we need to replace a baby rattle? It is perfect for a baby and meets them exactly where they are developmentally: they can hold it and it rattles when they shake it. If you, as a 20-30 something, are bored with a rattle, then you play with the app and let the baby play with the rattle.

For bedtime, there are many options out there. Lullaby!, a $1 iOS app, is a great bet. It’s all about soothing your child to sleep with quiet versions of classic songs, and it includes a sleep timer and an alarm clock. It also has a soundboard, great for amusing babies with calming noises before bed — older babies can probably enjoy this alone.

I’ll simply translate this paragraph: Get this app and you won’t have to do bedtime anymore! No more reading books! No more singing songs! No more bonding! Hooray!

I’ve found it best to think of the hundreds of baby-centric apps as sophisticated tactile toys for the 21st century.

Oh yes, let’s indulge our kids with hundreds… because kids need hundreds of something. And in the phrase “sophisticated tactile toy,” does ‘sophisticated’ mean ‘fake’? What exactly is ‘tactile’ about the apps?

And so as not to completely bash this article, I agree 100% with one of the last sentences:

I’ll also add one bit of advice: move your TV.

To conclude, rather than getting all excited about the hundreds of apps you can use to create a baby arcade that will get you out of parenting, why don’t you get yourself an app? I recommend “BabyApp.” This app will cry, tell you it loves you, say funny things from time to time, sleep, interrupt you when you are reading or talking on the phone, and respond to up to 10 different voices of your choice. And you can turn it off! It has a picture of a baby that is generated from pictures of you, so it really resembles you! It can be programmed to grow over time, or you can keep it at your favorite age! It only costs $5!!

………………………………………….

Whew. I’m done.

What are your thoughts on baby-centric apps? Hopefully only anti-app folks read this, because if you are pro-app, this was a very obnoxious post.

In Vermont...

Tue, 04 Sep 2012 20:17:54 -0400

We have been here for two weeks now and are busy settling in. We have reached the “functional” stage of unpacking and have lost all motivation to finish:

But our living room looks quite nice, if you ask me. In fact, I love the living room. Something about the blue walls (after eight years of rented apartment white walls that we never painted since we were sure we would be moving to Vermont at any moment) and the staircase that make me feel very happy.

Here is looking at the living room from the doorway:

Please excuse the mess. I haven’t cleaned up yet this evening. See those stringy things hanging above the couch? Those are decorations that Katherine made to make the living room “more fancy.” Because we are only renting this house for a year before we hopefully find a permanent home here, we decided not to unpack our books and pictures. So the walls are a bit plain. Luckily Katherine is decorating for us. In case you can’t see the detail - here is a close up. They are made from wrapping paper.

And one of my favorites, here is the view from the kitchen window:

A dream come true. I can watch the kids play in the yard while I make dinner. In DC it was always a tradeoff: take kids to playground because they desperately needed to get out of house or stay home and get through my list of things to do. The playground almost always won because the satisfaction of getting through my list was never worth the consequences of keeping 3 kids inside a small apartment in the middle of the city all afternoon. But now, here in Vermont, I can open the kitchen door and singsong, “Outside you go, my loves!” Well, maybe it isn’t quite that perfect - I do need to go out with them, but I don’t have to pack up for a trip to the playground (water, snack, spare clothes, potty, etc.), and I can pop in to check something on the stove if I need to.

Before we moved, I had ideas of what it would be like in Vermont. Housing is less expensive, but groceries and coffee are not. We don’t live across from two French horn players, nor are there leaf blowers roaring through the neighborhood three times a week. I love the quiet. No ants in our kitchen, but lots of Daddy Long Legs. Katherine and Clara have named them Alex. We see that Alex everywhere. I haven’t found those three extra hours in the day, so I still find myself staying up until midnight trying to get everything done. I really miss my friends, but like our old neighborhood, everyone here is very friendly, there are good coffee shops, and it has a small community feel. All in all, we are settling in happily. Slowly we are making this our home.

Guest Post: Baby-Led Weaning

Tue, 28 Aug 2012 20:52:54 -0400

This post is by my little sister. She recently introduced me to baby-led weaning and we are just starting it out with Alexandra. I love the concept, so I asked her to write about it, and then gave her a hard deadline and started nagging reminding her regularly. She also writes over at myrtlebird.

Eating family dinners is very important to me. Growing up, that was the one time of day our whole family came together. We had sit-down dinners every single night without fail. There were no special kids’ meals (my mother cooked delicious and complex meals every night—I have no idea how she did it), no microwaving your own Chef Boyardee if you got hungry early (not having a microwave helped on that front), and pretty much no leaving the table until everyone was done eating and talking, unless there was some serious homework that needed to be done. Those were formative hours spent at the dinner table, and I am determined to provide the same for my family. But planning ahead and following through have never been my strong suits, so when my baby was ready to eat solid foods, I couldn’t imagine how I was going to put dinner for three on the table every night (not to mention breakfast and lunch).

Earlier in the year I had purchased a blender because I knew that’s what people did—they made delicious and healthy purees that offered their babies a variety of colors and nutrients. Peas, sweet potatoes, avocados, squash….all wonderfully nutritious, and all things that I had never prepared for myself. Let’s be honest: if I had gone that route, I would have pureed things with gusto for about three days before I got too lazy to clean off the blades or run the dishwasher or until the fresh produce started to rot and breed fruit flies (see composting disaster). Then what?

Luckily I found the book Baby-Led Weaning with this advertisement on the cover: No Purees, No spoon-feeding, no struggle! Right away I was hooked. I can’t say it better than the book itself, so here are some excerpts:

“This is what typically happens in BLW:

— The baby is included in family mealtimes, where she watches what others are doing and is offered the chance to join in.

— Nobody “feeds” the baby; when she is ready she starts handling food and taking it to her mouth herself (at first with her fingers, and later with silverware).

— To start with, food is offered in pieces that are easy to pick up (babies soon learn how to handle a range of sizes, shapes, and textures).

— It’s up to the baby how much she eats and how fast she eats it. It’s also up to her how quickly she moves on to a wider range of foods.

— The baby continues to have milk feedings whenever she wants them, and she decides when she is ready to begin reducing them.”

What I really like about BLW is that it gives the baby independence and autonomy at mealtime. BLW “makes picky eating and mealtime battles less likely (when there is no pressure on babies to eat, there is far less opportunity for meals to become a battleground)”. It’s important to me that the baby grows up to appreciate food as a blessing and to never use it as a tool for getting attention or control. I have known several people who, as late as college, could not stop eating when they were full because they felt compelled to finish what was on their plate. They said they had been raised to clear their plates as kids and as a result had no sense of when to stop otherwise. Other than being forced to take three bites of creamed spinach every night*, my sister and I were never made to keep eating if we were not hungry. Dinner was presented: if we were hungry, we could eat; if not, then not. I can assure you that there were battles at the dinner table, but they were almost never about food.

We started BLW at six months and the baby took to it immediately. It was as if she had been sitting down to meals her entire life. She tries anything we put in front of her and she looks at us back and forth as we converse. She has no idea that she is learning how to eat or that she is any different than we are. Sitting down to dinner as a family is my favorite part of the day. BLW even makes going out to restaurants easier because I don’t have to bring a special snack for her or hope that there is a kids menu. She just eats pieces of whatever I order, and I am forced to choose healthier options for myself as a result. So far it’s working great, but my husband points out that we have only been doing this for three months and we really have no idea how it will turn out.

A couple behaviors (for the parents) that I’ve found helpful in this endeavor are:

— Place food in front of the baby and then be patient. If she eats it, great, if not, no problem. We don’t expect her to eat any amount—we don’t even hope that she does. It’s totally up to her. There’s no disappointment or frustration that way. Besides, for the first few months, most of the “eating” is really “playing”. Not a whole lot gets into their mouth but they have a great time exploring new textures and colors.

— Assume that it is natural for a child to eat food. It’s good that they eat, yes, but it’s not a “good job”. They are supposed to eat. As soon as they are praised for eating, they have the power to disappoint by not eating.

*nobody else in my family remembers this.

All-time favorites

Wed, 15 Aug 2012 07:00:00 -0400

And finally, as we drive away, a few of our all-time favorite places…

At the Arboretum.

Easter morning in the Azalea Garden.

Walking up the Azalea Hill.

At the Botanic Gardens.

Sunday morning at Fountain Park.

A winter day at Roosevelt Island.

A summer day at X-Park.

...when we live in Vermont.

Sat, 11 Aug 2012 07:00:00 -0400

We have been looking forward to moving to Vermont for years. It has lived in our minds as an idyllic, peaceful, rural place. Stars at night. Trees. Lots of trees. Real winters with enough snow for snowshoeing and sledding. Not-too-hot summers. Kind, like-minded people. It has also, over time, become the potential answer to all our current problems and gripes.

“We won’t have to deal with traffic… when we live in Vermont”

“It won’t be so expensive… when we live in Vermont”

“We’ll be closer to family… when we live in Vermont”

These statements are actually true. But lately “living in Vermont” has evolved into the solution to everything, and I’m a little worried we got carried away with our expectations…

…To the two French horn players who live across the street and practice the same scales six hours a day, every day we say, “Bet we won’t live across the street from French horn players when we live in Vermont!”

…To the hundreds of ants that swarm on our kitchen counters we say, “Well, our house in Vermont won’t have an ant problem!”

…To the leaf blowers that come roaring through our neighborhood twice a week to blow the one little leaf on the sidewalk (because, God forbid a piece of nature touch the cement!) we say, “No leaf blowers in Vermont!”

…When it gets to be 11pm and we still haven’t done half the things on our to-do list we say, “There are three extra hours to each day in Vermont!”

The first two may be true, but there probably are leaf blowers in Vermont. I’m still holding on to hope that there are three extra hours to each day. But even if there are no leaf blowers in Vermont, there will surely be something else. As I prepare for my fantasy Vermont to meet reality Vermont, I wonder what I should expect.

And now some more pictures of our lovely neighborhood, the places that can’t be matched anywhere else… not even in Vermont.

Jay & Michael at Monkeys’ Uncle.

Hot chai lattes.

Eastern Market.

“Fountain Park”

I love this building, even if the library inside isn’t living up to its potential.

Stop by Monday for the second post on Early Literacy!

Moving!

Wed, 08 Aug 2012 06:06:46 -0400

We are moving in one week. We are leaving DC, where we’ve lived for longer than I’ve lived any place other than my childhood home (and I’ve lived a lot of places). There are so many things I love about our neighborhood - our friends, the playgrounds, nutella lattes, Eastern Market, spring gardens, all the fountains, the walk to the capitol… But we don’t want to live in the city. We want to live way out in the country. And so we are moving. This has been our plan for years and we are finally making it happen.

Right now we are in the midst of our “lasts” and our goodbyes. My last metro ride home from work, our last dinner at our favorite Indian restaurant, our last trip to the Botanic Gardens, goodbye to friends I’ve known since my first day of grad school, goodbye to dear friends we’ve known since our oldest child was a newborn, goodbye to classmates and neighbors, and the super friendly man selling StreetSense on the corner of Penn and 7th.

Even though I’m anxious to look forward and focus on the move, I’m making an effort to hold back and savor these last couple of weeks. I’m trying to let myself feel the sadness of leaving what has truly been home for seven years.

I thought it might be nice to post a few pictures (or maybe a lot of pictures) of all the places we love here. I’ll start with a few of the landmarks. I’ll sure miss being able to walk to them!

Reflecting Pool at Capitol.

Capitol in snow.

Jefferson Memorial during cherry blossom season.

Baseball with friends at National Monument.

Pictures from around our neighborhood up next!

Information Seeking

Sun, 29 Jul 2012 22:28:00 -0400

Someone once told be about a comic - I probably don’t have it exactly right, but here is the main idea (I wish I had the pictures to go with it):

A man and his son are in the car.

From the backseat the son asks, “Dad, why are leaves green?”

The dad launches into an explanation about chlorophyl, pigments, photosynthesis.

The boy responds with, “Dad, are you talking to me?”

I often think of this comic when my kids ask me questions and I try to figure out if and how to answer them. Most of the time, I’m not convinced my kids are really seeking information, at least not when they are under five years old. If they are seeking information, it is not the adult kind - factual and complex - that best meets their inquiry.

To elaborate…

The ‘why?’ stage. Most children go through this stage. It is cute and amusing at first, then a bit tiresome, then relentless. In my experience, my answers are never satisfactory, they only lead to the next ‘why’, which can quickly turn into an empty why-because back and forth. It seems to me that this stage isn’t about information, but rather about figuring out the dynamic between the adult and the child: Does my mom really know everything? Does she start talking to me every time I ask ‘why’ ? How many ‘whys’ do I have to ask until she finally says “I don’t know!”? I often get the impression that the child is more interested in the interaction than the answer. And at some point, responding to everything with ‘why’ may become such a habit that the child says it without any interest in either the interaction or the answer — like when Katherine would absent-mindedly say ‘why’ without even looking up from what she was doing and wouldn’t even notice whether or not I responded.

As children get a little older (though I’m still talking under five) their questions become a little more sophisticated, but even at this stage I don’t think the questions indicate a request for an answer, at least not my answer. Rather, I think it is a request to confirm what they think is the answer. I remember a specific exchange I had with Katherine (when she was about two) that made me evaluate what her questions were really about:

Katherine was gazing out the window and asked me, “Mom, where do the birds come from?” As I started organizing my response about how birds hatch from eggs, how eggs are laid from mother birds, why birds come from eggs, and the whole philosophical question of where the first bird came from, I suddenly wondered how on earth I would explain all of this to a two-year-old. Rather than figure it out, I opted not to answer and simply asked back, “Where do you think they come from?” Katherine promptly answered, “From under the fence. I think they come in under the fence from that yard over there.”

She didn’t actually want me to answer, and she certainly wasn’t asking for the information I was about to give her! She already had the answer worked out and it was as if her question was really asking, “Do you agree with me?” If I had answered with information that was relevant to me, I would have missed her point, and her explanation, completely.

Of course there are times when Katherine or Clara do have a genuine question about something. For example, Clara asked me why leaves change color in the fall, and I think in this case she did want my answer. But if I were to give her my answer, it wouldn’t be anything like the creative, imaginative one she could come up with on her own. I’m constrained by knowledge, she is not. Soon enough her logic and reasoning skills will kick in* and providing her with factual answers will be appropriate. But for now I much rather my two-year-old have fun with her imagination than (try to) understand the real reason why a leaf changes color.

So I generally don’t answer my kids’ questions. Instead I respond with “Hmm, I wonder” or “What do you think?” More often than not I get a very detailed, well-developed answer that gives me a glimpse of how their young minds work.

*Those logic and reasoning skills do kick in. Katherine (5 1/2) now questions whether eating carrots really does make her eyes sparkle. A clear indication that she is ready for real answers to her questions.

Tooth Fairy

Wed, 25 Jul 2012 20:40:04 -0400

The tooth fairy is coming for Katherine’s second lost tooth tonight… She will probably leave this poem and a gem.

This night it is a special night
As fairies dance upon the roof.
All the fairies must alight,
For Katherine just lost a tooth!

The Fairy Queen gives her commands-
Twelve bright fairies must join hands
Then together in a circle stands
To guard Katherine while she sleeps.

The Tooth Fairy into the circle leaps
The hidden tooth she takes
Ah, but has far to go
Before Katherine awakes.

Three times around the world she flies
Over valleys deep and mountains high;
Skirts the storm clouds thick with thunder,
Wings over waves all wild with wonder.

Deep within their earthly homes
Finally she finds the gnomes,
Who upon the tooth must work
Never once their duty shirk.

Some are hammering, hammering, hammering,
Some the bellows blow
Others sweat at the sweltering forge
And then cry out, “Heigh Ho!”

The tooth’s been turned to a shining stone,
A glimmering, glowing gem
The tooth Fairy takes the gnomes’ good gift,
And curtsies to all of them.
Before the sun’s first rays are shown,
She returns to Katherine’s bed,
And then - - - away she’s flown!

Thank you, Emily, for sharing this wonderful tradition.

Good jobbing

Sat, 14 Jul 2012 20:55:47 -0400

I’ve been planning a post on “good jobbing” for a while now, but then I came across this article, by Alfie Kohn, who says it all much better than I ever could. Plus he cites actual research to back it up. So I’ll just add in a few of my own comments.

I am amazed at the frequency with which people “Good job!” kids. It’s not just parents doing it, it’s nannies, parents’ friends, older kids (to younger kids), even strangers. I’ve had my kids good jobbed by random people who pass us on the sidewalk and apparently think Katherine and Clara are really good at walking.

Why do people feel the need to praise kids for doing what they are wired to do? Walking, throwing a ball, going down a slide, eating dinner… these are not accomplishments, let alone accomplishments worthy of praise. These are activities kids just do.

In fact, I find “good jobbing” rather condescending. What if Dave came into the kitchen (or worse yet, called from the living room) “Good job, Karen!” as I was making dinner? It would be inappropriate, and I don’t think it is any less inappropriate to say it to a child who is going down a slide. But it has become a cultural habit, and I doubt people even think about the fact that most of the time, “Good job” is empty in content, condescending in message, and distracting to children who are just going about their play.

Please check out Alfie Kohn’s article… he discusses “good jobbing” in more depth and with more thoughtfulness than this mini-rant. Plus he talks about “praise junkies” (who doesn’t want to read about that?!) and offers alternative responses.

More on Chores

Wed, 11 Jul 2012 20:56:00 -0400

Earlier this week I wrote about Children and Chores. As I work towards including my children more in household chores, I’ve been thinking about how parents can set the expectation that everyone helps out in the home. It probably isn’t realistic for kids to always be compliant and cheerful about doing chores, but nagging and whining shouldn’t be the norm either.

Over the past couple of years, I’ve received some good advice from teachers and parents about what kind of chores are appropriate, how to introduce new chores, and how to make these chores part of the daily routine. I thought I’d share their wisdom.

Ms. Christine advised us that birthdays are a good time to introduce new chores. Kids are excited about growing up and giving them the responsibility of a new chore is a nice way to acknowledge their change in age. When Katherine turned five she took on clearing her dinner plate. Of the few things we ask her to do chore-wise, this is the one she rarely fusses about. Maybe it has to do with how we introduced it? I’m sure she’ll eventually catch on that a birthday chore is not exactly a birthday present, but for now we’ll take it!

There are the standard chores, like setting/clearing the table, taking out the garbage, and putting clean clothes away in drawers, but this year we’ve incorporated some more creative chores, most of which Katherine brought home from school:

Polishing, which is really a fancy word for dusting. In Katherine’s classroom they “polish” the toys every Friday.
Cobwebbing is another hit in Katherine’s classroom. Wrap a small towel around the end of a 4-5 foot long stick and run it along the ceiling and the wall corners to remove cobwebs.
Sweeping. Siblings can also enjoy fighting over who gets to sweep and who gets to hold the dustpan.
Washing windows using a spray bottle. I’m pretty sure kids will do anything if it involves a spray bottle.

My kids like doing all of these things… once in a while. When they feel like it. But I’m interested in how to make chores an automatic part of the daily/weekly routine. People recommend a keeping a schedule: Monday is vacuum day, Tuesday is clean bathroom day, etc., but for me that is easier said than done. On nice days I’m more than willing to sacrifice a clean bathroom so we can spend more time outside, or if I’m in the mood to bake, I’m sure to choose chocolate over window washing!

Maybe I need a more official looking schedule. It is currently crayoned in on our breakfast schedule (which is failed attempt to bring more variety to breakfast… all mom wants to prepare anyone wants is cereal.)

Modeling the work you want your kids to do and/or working along side them is ideal. Clara is much more inclined to help straighten up if I am doing it too, and it is much nicer to work together than to nag over and over from across the room.

Books can also help when introducing - or enforcing- chores. A favorite in our home is Ox-Cart Man, and I just started reading Little House in the Big Woods to Katherine. I think she is impressed with how Laura and Mary help Pa and Ma… Hopefully that will play in my favor.

Even though I know these are all good ideas that would help the children-chore situation in our home, some are hard to implement in reality. Having Katherine and Clara help isn’t the most efficient way to a clean house, and it is easier to shoo them out of the kitchen than to find ways for them to contribute. As far as making it part of the routine, I don’t always want to be tied to “polishing day,” and find it hard to stick to the schedule.

Tell me, what types of chores do your kids do? How do you implement chores in your home? What was it like in your home when you were a kid? I’d love to hear your suggestions…

Children and Chores

Sun, 08 Jul 2012 22:37:05 -0400

Spoiled Rotten, Why do kids rule to roost?, is a great article packed full of information, observations, and cultural comparisons. There are a lot of points made about parenting in general, and specifically about parenting in the U.S., but one in particular hit home: the typical American kid does not (willingly) help with household chores. Since reading the article, I have been listening to the requests I make of the kids, how many times I make a request, how often the request is met, and the mood and tone (i.e., joyful, fussy) it is met with.

Katherine and Clara usually meet my requests, but I have been unpleasantly surprised by their mood and tone: some resistance, a lot of fussing and “I don’t want to”s, and even the dreaded, “I don’t have to.” Stepping back, it isn’t all that surprising. While I am pretty consistent about stating requests (Katherine, please brush your teeth and comb your hair.) rather than asking (Katherine, will you please brush your teeth and comb your hair?), I did notice that I frequently convey the message in my response that they are doing me a big favor by doing what I have asked:

“Oh thank you, Katherine!”

“That was really helpful, Clara, thank you!”

“Thank you for putting on your shoes!”

I do believe in acknowledging a child’s hard work, but the tasks I thank my kids for doing are all standard, routine things, like putting on shoes, clearing their dinner plate, cleaning up the basket of spilled crayons. I don’t want to feel - and express - gratitude when they complete these tasks, I want them to just happen without comment or fanfare. If they feel they are doing me a big favor by clearing their plate, it’s no wonder they feel it is within their right to tell me, “I don’t have to.”

But communicating excessive gratitude for simple, routine tasks is only one component of the problem. It also occurred to me that all I ask of Katherine and Clara are simple, routine tasks. I could and should be expecting a lot more from them. I’m not talking about loading them down with chores so I can sit and read blogs all day, as tempting as that may be. I am talking about giving them real responsibility that genuinely contributes to the functioning of our family. For example, it could be Katherine’s role to fill the water glasses every evening, and Clara’s role to fill each salad bowl with lettuce and vegetables that she has cut up. These tasks would be challenging for them, but more importantly, they are meaningful tasks that are necessary in order for the family to eat dinner. Katherine and Clara would probably accept these tasks as a prestigious responsibility, and hopefully this would be enough to quell the fussy, resistant, attitude.

Of course this all sounds great, but it will no doubt result in a few broken glasses, lots of water spills, and some pretty big chunks of carrot in our salad… in other words, it will most certainly create more work for me, which, by the way, is cited in the article as a reason why American parents don’t include their children in household tasks. But if I make time for them to participate in a meaningful way, and just accept that we will sacrifice a few glasses, it will serve our family well. The kids will participate in household chores, I’ll have real opportunities to express my gratitude, and maybe in a few years they’ll be the American equivalent of the Matsigenka of Peru, and bake me brownies over an open fire.

Training Katherine and Clara to bake brownies; an important responsibility that contributes to the functioning of our family.

Happy 4th!

Wed, 04 Jul 2012 00:19:45 -0400

For the 4th of July, Katherine decorated the flowers with a flag, two gnomes, and a fairy.

Crazy Busy!

Sun, 01 Jul 2012 13:10:38 -0400

This is a great article. I love the first paragraph, he hits it straight on!

If you live in America in the 21st century you’ve probably had to listen to a lot of people tell you how busy they are. It’s become the default response when you ask anyone how they’re doing: “Busy!” “So busy.” “Crazy busy.” It is, pretty obviously, a boast disguised as a complaint. And the stock response is a kind of congratulation: “That’s a good problem to have,” or “Better than the opposite.”

Of course, I actually do think I’m crazy busy. But this article reminds me that, to a large degree, my busyness is self-imposed. If I took only what really and truly needed to be done each day, I’d have tons of free time. Unfortunately, it is ingrained in our culture (or at least in “mom culture”) that busyness means fulfillment and accomplishment, so I suspect I’d feel some degree of dissatisfaction and unease if I embraced a less-busy lifestyle. Kreider addresses this phenomenon with a poignant observation:

It’s almost always people whose lamented busyness is purely self-imposed: work and obligations they’ve taken on voluntarily, classes and activities they’ve “encouraged” their kids to participate in. They’re busy because of their own ambition or drive or anxiety, because they’re addicted to busyness and dread what they might have to face in its absence.

But this comment just made me laugh out loud. I’ve been on both ends of this type of exchange:

I recently wrote a friend to ask if he wanted to do something this week, and he answered that he didn’t have a lot of time but if something was going on to let him know and maybe he could ditch work for a few hours. I wanted to clarify that my question had not been a preliminary heads-up to some future invitation; this was the invitation.

And this one may be my new email signature (if I had an email signature):

It’s hard to find anything to say about life without immersing yourself in the world, but it’s also just about impossible to figure out what it might be, or how best to say it, without getting the hell out of it again.

So in all your free time, go read this article!

Telling Time

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 21:50:02 -0400

Auntie M asked me to write a post about why I don’t want my kids to learn how to tell time. Others have also wondered about this, asking if it there is some Waldorf philosophy around it. Part of it does relate to a general Waldorf philosophy about keeping kids in the present, but I have to admit that I also don’t want them to tell time for my own convenience.

Having my kids be able to tell time would make my life more difficult. Right now, bedtime is when we say it is bedtime. Nap time is over when we say it is over. “Time to leave the park” is when I feel like leaving (usually for good reason, like to go home to eat lunch before there is a major meltdown). If Katherine could tell time, it would be the end of my flexibility when it comes to adjusting the schedule based on my the kids’ needs. Sometimes I really need nap/quiet time to go until 3:15 so I can finish up a work email… sometimes Dave and I need bedtime to be at 7 instead of 7:30 because the kids are exhausted, or we need that extra half hour to just sit and eat dessert by ourselves. I can just imagine Katherine calling us on that: “It’s not bedtime, it’s only 7! Bedtime is at 7:30.” That is not what we need at the end of the day.

However, there is good reason (other than my own convenience) to hold off on teaching young children to tell time. Waldorf teachers often talk about how important it is for children to stay present in the moment. Knowing what time it is does not benefit them, it takes them out of the present and prevents them from sinking into their play. It can also add an element of anxiety. I believe it is the parents’ job to worry about the time (i.e., getting out the door on time, getting to bed on time), and this burden should not fall on the child. As I’ve written before, one of the wonders of childhood is to not be burdened with time. I would like to preserve that wonder for as long as possible.

I have no doubt Katherine is capable of learning to tell time, and it would probably be fun to teach her, and she might even get some satisfaction out of it… but then what? After the novelty wore off she’d be stuck knowing what time it is. I see no benefit in that for her, especially since she would still have a 5-year-old concept of time - meaning she would be able to tell time from a clock, but she would not really know what to do with this information. If she saw it was 8:05am and knew we needed to leave at 8:15am, would she be able to figure out that her current pace was not going to get her ready in time and then actually move faster to accommodate running behind? Probably not. Even if she could, especially if she could, I would not want to place that on her. At least not yet. I’d rather give her as long as possible to enjoy not being tied to time. Soon enough she’ll be racing against the clock to get her homework done, wishing for time to pass quickly so she can go get her driver’s license, trying to slow time down when she realizes her children are growing up too fast…

For now I’d rather she just play happily and not worry about how much longer she has or what is coming next and when.

A Car Rental Rant

Tue, 19 Jun 2012 23:14:21 -0400

This past weekend we went to visit my family. It was our first time traveling with three kids and based on time constraints, convenience, and other basic logistics, we decided it made the most sense to fly and then rent a car along with three car seats.

We made the car rental reservations months in advance and three days before our trip I called Budget to confirm. I made a point of (1) speaking to a human, which is a feat in and of itself, (2) confirming our reservation, and (3) emphasizing that we needed three carseats and a car big enough for three car seats to be available upon our arrival. The human assured me a minivan along with three car seats would be waiting for us. He even read our reservation back to me word for word. I thanked him and crossed “confirm car rental” off my list.

You can guess what happened. We arrived at O’Hare, walked the mile to baggage claim, waited 10 minutes in 95 degree heat for the Budget shuttle, and stood in line at the Budget counter for 30 minutes. I actually didn’t wait in the line, Dave did. I found a nice little corner, fed the kids a snack, took Katherine and Clara to the bathroom, and changed Alexandra’s diaper, all of which also took 30 minutes. Then I was ready to get in the car and be on our way. But Dave was still at the counter talking to the woman. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen, then twenty… Budget had neither a minivan nor three carseats. The woman didn’t even see carseats on our reservation. My pointing out that I had confirmed our reservation - complete with carseats - just days earlier did not help. It took an hour and a half for Budget to locate a “car of equivalent size” and three carseats. When we dragged the kids, bags, and carseats across the parking, we found an SUV with one backseat row that wouldn’t fit three carseats.

By this point we were well into naptime, melting in the heat, and at a loss of what to do next. No one was in a good place, least of all me, because not only do I lack patience and have a hard time dealing with incompetence, I really don’t care for SUVs.* We pleaded with a Budget guy in the parking lot and he eventually found us an even bigger SUV with a third row. We installed the carseats, loaded the kids, and got out of there.

An image of the monstrosity, showing the inaccessible third row, nonexistent trunk space, and lack of handy sliding door.I’ll just take a moment here to explain why I don’t care for SUVs. First of all, we are a small car (as in Nissan Versa small) family and committed to remaining that way. Second of all, if we were to be a big car family (which I admit may happen someday), we would go for a minivan, not an SUV. The monstrosity we ended up with, like a minivan, had three rows, but it was impossible to get to the third row without folding down one of the second row seats, which of course wasn’t possible when there was a carseat in it. We weren’t about to uninstall and reinstall a carseat every time we needed to get Katherine into her third row seat and we couldn’t put Clara or Alexandra back there to free up a second row seat because we couldn’t fit either of their carseats past the second row. There was probably some better way to do it, but standing there in the heat with three hungry, tired kids, we weren’t about to figure it out. In the end we had Katherine climb in through the trunk and over the back of her seat. A minivan doesn’t have this problem. It has three rows, a lovely sliding door, and a convenient aisle so everyone can get to their seat with minimal, if any, difficulty.

But all’s well that ends well: the kids held it together at Budget (more than the parents did), having to climb in through the trunk and over the seat was the highlight of the trip for Katherine (she’s still talking about it and asking why we can’t always have that “nice car”), we made it to my parents’ house and had a relaxing visit, and Alexandra took revenge on Budget on our behalf with a mighty blowout. Of course we had to clean it, but it was quite gratifying to see her poop running down the carseat and onto the seat.

Anyway, this isn’t exactly a post on parenting, but it happened while I had kids with me, so that is close enough. I try to keep in mind that as a parent my behavior should always be worthy of imitation. This can be very challenging, especially in situations like this, when I am beyond frustration and feel helpless when it comes to solving a problem that shouldn’t even exist. This time I failed, I was definitely not worthy of imitation at the Budget counter.

*Except for Sarah’s because I associate it with our weekly play date.

Princess Post

Thu, 14 Jun 2012 00:59:25 -0400

When I was little I loved Cinderella and Snow White: the helpful mice, the pumpkin coach, Sneezy and Grumpy, even the harsh but appropriate punishment for the wicked witch after Snow White is revived… these fairy tales were magical and the far away land where they took place was very real to me. But now as a parent I find myself in the anti-princess camp. I get annoyed when Katherine admires all the Cinderella costumes at Halloween and excitedly points out the Little Mermaid stickers at the doctor’s office. What is it about the princesses, who were a wonderful part of my childhood, that now irritates me to the point of not wanting to share them with my children?

Maybe you’ve seen on Facebook the picture of the princesses with the mocking statements identifying each story’s anti-feminist message. If you missed it, here it is:

That’s why they irritate me.

But I don’t really believe these messages characterize the true fairy tales. Rather, they are an unfortunate consequence of the commercialization of the princesses. The original fairy tales are complex and reflect the inner qualities of human nature. They are a great way for kids to process and explore good and evil. For example, the characters in Snow White symbolize the pure (Snow White), the evil (Wicked Witch), and the will (Dwarfs) that reside in all of us. The story presents a struggle between them and in the end, a resolution. But somehow the richness of the story has been lost to an obsession with the princess. The focus on the struggle within the self has been shifted to a focus on a two-dimensional character in a pretty dress.

How did this happen?

The fairy tale books I had as a child offered beautiful artwork of a few selected scenes, the rest I had to fill in with my imagination. Today, children watch the Disney movies in which the entire story is presented visually, leaving nothing to the imagination. Furthermore, we are bombarded with the commercialized princess images: we see them on backpacks, children’s clothing, bedding, lunch boxes, notebooks, etc. Despite having never seen a Disney movie or owned any Disney paraphernalia, Katherine knows all the princesses* and she’s only five! Even worse, she only identifies with the princesses who resemble her. Just today she noticed the picture above on my computer screen and proceeded to tell me, “I can be Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty because I have yellow hair like they do. But Clara has to be Belle because she has brown hair.” Katherine has no chance to create a picture of Belle that she can relate to.

The lack of a child’s imagination when it comes to Disney princesses is probably pretty common these days. I remember hearing of a teacher who conducted a mini-experiment in her class. She told her grade school students a story in which one of the characters was an old woman. At the end of the story she asked the children to draw the old woman. Each child came up with a unique and detailed picture. The teacher then told the children the story of Cinderella. At the end, she asked them to draw Cinderella. Each child drew the exact same image.

If children don’t need to do any imaginative work, are they able to process the story deeply and in a way that allows them to relate it to their own world? Or are they stuck on the pre-made, shallow (and unrealistic!) imagery of mass media? What is lost when we don’t engage a child’s imagination in a story?

I will read the princess stories to my children. But I wonder if they’ll have the opportunity to make the stories their own, or if in Katherine’s mind, Snow White already wears a blue and yellow dress and a red hairband in her brown hair.

*When I asked her how she knows who they are, she replied in her snarky ‘duh’ tone, “I just do, mom.”

Gun Play

Tue, 05 Jun 2012 21:03:19 -0400

This post on weapon play inspired me to finally put down my thoughts on this topic. With three girls, gun play isn’t a huge issue in our home, but it does appear from time to time. For example, a few weeks ago Katherine started building toy guns out of legos and called them “shooters.” She engaged Clara as well and the two of them went around shooting things for a few days. It was pretty clear that the play came from school - with 10 boys and 6 girls in Katherine’s class, gun play is inevitable. I think she was just trying it out at home because she wasn’t quite comfortable joining in at school. It went on for a few days, then they abandoned it. I struggled with letting them be and was grateful when it disappeared.

Although my own experience with gun play has been limited, it is a common topic among parents. Based on discussions with Katherine’s teachers and her classmates’ parents, I have formed a few opinions. Of course it is easy for me to have opinions when it is not something I really have to deal with, but I’ll share them nonetheless.

They even make beautiful wooden toy guns. Who knew?!Generally speaking, children play what they need to play in order to process their world. Most children are exposed to guns through a variety of sources, such as t.v., movies, the news, other children, and toys. Some children have parents who have to keep guns in their home because of their job, and children of military families are exposed to guns, especially if they live on a base. Whether we like it or not, guns are very present in our lives. It makes sense that children need to process this aspect of life and doing so through play is healthy.

I think it is important to also keep in mind that gun play doesn’t have the same meaning to children as it does to adults. I am horrified at the idea of my five-year-old going around pretending to shoot people. But that is based on thirty some years of experience and a mature understanding of murder and death. To a five-year-old, it is nothing more than an escalated version of tag.

As far as allowing it in my home, I follow the guidelines Katherine’s teacher uses in his classroom. I try to be aware of the effect gun play is having on the children playing it and the children nearby who are not playing it. If someone feels threatened, I intervene, but if no one feels threatened, I’ll let it go. When I do intervene, I’ll tell the gun player that the gun may not be pointed at people and I’ll try to redirect the play. Often I’ll suggest they hunt a dragon or some wild beast in the forest. Sometimes I’ll turn their pretend gun into a pretend water squirter and request that they cool me down. This usually works, but I have it easy because the girls usually lose interest pretty quickly anyway.

For parents whose children don’t lose interest so easily, I think it is possible to embrace the need for gun play. One parent I know enrolled the whole family in archery lessons. Every weekend they went into the woods together to practice their skills. They enjoyed shooting targets out in nature in a safe and healthy way. I think this approach is brilliant - it treated her son’s need and desire for gun play positively and with respect, and it brought the whole family into it in a way they could all enjoy.

As with any issue, parents need to find their own comfort level while considering their individual children. One child may really need gun play, while another child may be stuck in a gun play rut to the point of missing out on other important kinds of play. One child may play guns in a way that negatively affects others while another child may play in a way that is non-threatening. How a parent decides to deal with gun play is personal, and may change with time as the child changes.

I have to say, though, despite my views that gun play is generally ok, I still bristle every time it comes home. It will probably always be difficult for me to balance my knowledge of guns and their role in society with the need my kids have to process their world through play.

What it says about society that our kids play guns is another matter…

Mental Crowding

Sat, 02 Jun 2012 23:10:22 -0400

In typical Type A fashion, I tend to take on more than I can handle and then get great satisfaction out of organizing my schedule to accommodate the overload. It’s a fairly predictable cycle. I’ll be floating along, busy, content. Then I’ll start to get a little restless and look for something to add to my plate. Sometimes it’s something small, like a sewing project, sometimes it’s big, like joining the board at Katherine’s school. I often feel slightly, but happily, overwhelmed for a period of time, then I find a new balance and start the cycle again. But with a new baby and now transitioning back to work, the balance has been all out of whack. I’ve been more than slightly overwhelmed… and I can’t get all the pieces to fit together.

In an attempt to manage all the pieces, I’ve determined there are the “must-dos,” (e.g., getting Katherine to and from school, making dinner, fulfilling my work commitments), which absolutely have to happen each day; the “should-dos”(e.g., cleaning the bathroom, updating the kids’ closets with summer clothes, scheduling that doctor’s appointment); and finally, the “want-tos,” (e.g., finishing Mockingjay, writing this post, going for a run), which really could be put aside, except that I look forward to these things and get grouchy when I don’t have them. So my solution is to stay up really late to try to do it all for as many nights as I can before I crash. Then I temporarily abandon the should-do list while I catch up on sleep. By the time the house gets so gross that I can’t stand it and my kids are wearing long sleeves in 90 degree weather, I’m better rested and can go back to staying up really late again. It’s not ideal, but it is working for now. And I am on my way to accepting that this is the new norm with three kids.

The part I don’t like is the mental crowding. No matter what I’m doing my mind is jumping around to the other tasks on my list, preventing me from enjoying the thing I’m actually doing. I’d like to be able to sing Wheels on the Bus to Alexandra without thinking about getting to the computer to respond to that one work email, and I might actually enjoy making dinner if I didn’t start worrying about what I’m going to do with the rotting CSA vegetables every time I opened the fridge. I don’t like when a whole day has gone by and I feel I missed out on half of it because I was always thinking about how I could have been doing something else.

It’s easy enough to turn off the technology, or at least designate time for email, blog reading, IMing, etc. so that it doesn’t invade my day (actually, this isn’t easy at all, but I could do it if I decided to). But other than that, I can’t figure out what to let go in order to clear mental space. Everything on the list seems necessary - either for general family functioning or my own sanity. I suppose something will eventually give, or it will be one of those things that works itself out.

In the meantime, I’m going to call upon the two places where I have always felt completely at peace. Places whose vastness creates a stillness and silence that puts everything into perspective (especially the above first world problems).

Mont Sainte Victoire (view from Bibémus outside of Aix-en-Provence)

and the Sonoran Desert, outside of Tucson.

I can’t travel to France or Arizona, but even the pictures bring me a feeling of calm. And when their effect wears off (after all, they are only pictures), there is always Alfred Cat. Nothing like a furry friend to reduce stress. (Plus it’s about time he got his picture up on this blog.)

Slowing Down

Thu, 24 May 2012 08:15:00 -0400

My kids are from Planet Slow. It takes us a ridiculously long time to get ready for a simple walk to the park. On the kids’ end, they only need to pee and put on shoes, but these two simple tasks take forever. Getting out the door to go to school in the morning is even worse. The more I try to hurry them along with phrases like “hurry up!”, “we’re late!”, “we’re running out of time!”, the slower they move. Probably because they’re trying to figure out what the heck ‘running out of time’ means. Even the ultimate threat, “if we don’t move faster you’ll miss circle time!”, is met with a blank stare and a marked slowdown.

I often find myself frustrated that I can’t make Katherine and Clara move faster. I take pride in my efficiency and punctuality; the ability to power through my daily to-do list is a major source of job satisfaction. Kids are a direct obstacle to efficiency and punctuality, and their sloth-like tendencies can drive me crazy. Nevertheless, I love that they are not tied to the clock, always aware of what time it is, always looking ahead to what needs to be done next. It is one of the wonders of childhood, to not be burdened by time, and I want to preserve it for them.

But how? How do we balance this aspect of childhood with efficiency, and quite frankly, practicality? We have to keep a schedule, get to school on time, move at a reasonable pace. If we spend 30 minutes walking two blocks to the park, Katherine and Clara don’t have time to run and climb before we have to come home for dinner. And they need to run and climb at the park, because if they don’t, they’ll just do it in the living room and on the furniture when we get home. How do we coordinate our time constraints, which are perfectly valid and necessary, with a child’s (nonexistent) concept of time?

The standard answer is better planning. “Leave extra time so you don’t have to rush,” everyone says. But in my experience, this is not sufficient. I don’t think it is possible to leave enough time for Katherine to tie her shoes at her own pace. She could probably spend most of the day tying and retying her shoes to perfection. As usual when I struggle with a parenting challenge, I consult our local experts (aka, Katherine and Clara’s teachers). They recommended the simple solution of slowing down. Here are the specifics of what I’m working on:

1. Move at half-speed. This is counterintuitive as I often think if I move faster, the kids will move faster. But frantically trying to get everything ready and calling out instructions from across the kitchen while filling a water bottle projects a sense of urgency that just distracts them. Taking my time as I get ready helps them focus on their tasks. If I slow down, they speed up.

2. Make requests slowly. When I stop what I’m doing, look Clara in the eye, and speak a request simply, slowly and deliberately, “Clara, you may put on your shoes now,” she usually does it right then and there. Magic.

3. Set aside time for activities with absolutely no agenda. Planning outings with no final destination gets me more cooperation on outings that are about getting somewhere. For example, I can say to Clara, “This is a park outing. You can stop and count every single flower petal on the entire rose bush on our walking outing tomorrow,” which is much nicer than “Let’s go! We don’t have time to stop.” Plus Clara knows she will get a chance to count every petal because walking outings are part of our routine.

Although these strategies are straightforward and effective, I admit they don’t come naturally and can be hard to implement. Half-speed, slow and deliberate, no agenda… these are concepts that threaten my daily productivity. But when I make the effort to slow down, I achieve a better balance between my schedule and their pace. I even find myself appreciating their pace. It is freeing to let go of the rushing about, and when I get into the groove of slowing down, I find myself relaxing into the day and enjoying all the slow moments with the kids. Moments without the burden of time.

Katherine’s morning shoe routine.

8:05am

8:09am

8:11am

8:13am

8:16am

8:20am

Bedtime Battle

Thu, 17 May 2012 13:55:31 -0400

Over the last few months our bedtime routine has slowly deteriorated into a frustrating hour of crowd control (yes, three kids qualifies as a crowd). There is yelling involved. And threats. Most of them empty because it is the end of the day and what can we take away at that point? Looking back, it pretty much started around the time Alexandra was born. The conspiracy theorist in me is pretty sure the kids have advanced strategic planning skills and they took advantage of our exhaustion and our unstable, compromised routine to take control of the evening hours. Perhaps I should be proud of their capability.

Here is what has been happening. Around the middle of dinnertime, the big sisters start to get wound up. The bathroom words creep into conversation and before we know it “pee” and “poop” are flying freely. That is phase one. Phase two involves Katherine climbing the bathroom door frame while we try to get her to brush teeth and Clara unrolling the toilet paper all over the bathroom floor. In phase three, both girls are running away from us, naked and soaking wet as we call out a mix of empty threats and pathetic bribes: “You’re using up your story time!” “Girls who put on their pjs will get two songs!” But they are beyond threats and bribes. That’s when the yelling starts. By the time we finally get them tucked in and quiet with lights out, we’re exhausted and grumpy.

We need to reestablish a bedtime routine that is calm and enjoyable. To get this back we’ve come up with a plan: separate and stagger. As soon as dinner is over one of us takes Katherine up to brush teeth, take bath, put on pjs, get into bed, read book, sing song, lights out. Clara stays downstairs to help clean up. Once Katherine is in bed, Clara comes up to brush teeth and take bath. But Clara gets her pjs, book, and song in our bedroom. Only when she is ready for sleep does she get into her bed. The lights are already out and Katherine is calm and hopefully drifting off. Two girls in bed. Quiet.

We’re still working out the kinks, for example, we haven’t quite figured out where Alexandra fits in. She needs to be bathed too. Does it happen after both big sisters are in bed? Or before? We’re not sure. But so far the new routine seems to be helping. The kids are much calmer and it doesn’t feel like a battle. We also get to enjoy time alone with each kid, which is probably what they need - and what we need. So maybe they weren’t conspiring against us. Maybe they aren’t a two-person tactical team. Maybe they were just trying to tell us it wasn’t working. And hopefully now it is.

The big sisters

Happy Mother's Day

Sat, 12 May 2012 19:14:17 -0400

Thank You Mom. Happy Mother’s Day!

*Since this list is probably only interesting to my mom and my sister, other readers (both of you) should feel free to go here (my favorite blog) to read something more interesting.

The List

Riding on the back of your bike down, down, down to Tower Road beach.

The googly eye stickers on your bike seat.

Getting picked up from preschool with Bee cat in the back seat.

Riding to preschool on a sled in the winter.

Bologna and mustard sandwiches cut out with the gingerbread man cookie cutter.

The Mugo plant in the Rosewood garden.

Riding toddle downtown.

Half birthday parties with shiny invitations made from tinfoil.

Long bike rides.

Family dinners.

Egg custard with “medicine”.

Sending me to summer camp and to Sweden.

Drop shot drills at 6am.

Driving me all around the Midwest for tennis tournaments… and listening to my music the whole time… and liking (or pretending to like) it.

Making me take French (bet you never thought I’d thank you for that one!)

Getting me out of chemistry.

Chocolate malts… and now lattes.

Making quilts.

Introducing me to When Harry Met Sally, then watching it with me dozens of times, then listening to me recite it on road trips.

Always being so kind to my friends.

Giving me just the right amount of freedom during the teenage years to keep me safe but allow me my independence (how did you ever find that perfect balance???)

My wedding flowers (I don’t remember the date but I do remember the beautiful flowers).

Six weeks in DC so I could finish my dissertation.

Reading my dissertation.

Coming with one week’s notice to help with #3.

Hand written letters.

And many, many more things.

Miscarriage, Years Later

Fri, 11 May 2012 17:26:14 -0400

I just read this post on miscarriage. Every time I come across someone’s story of miscarriage, it is painfully familiar…

Seven years ago I went in for my 10 week appointment, excited to see my baby’s heartbeat, a little life already so loved. But instead of pointing out a flickering light on the screen, the doctor started asking questions. When exactly had I taken a positive pregnancy test? When was the first day of my last cycle? Had I experienced any cramps? A cold silence came over the room. No one spoke as the doctor continued to search the screen. I waited, knowing with each passing second of silence that the pronouncement of loss was more and more likely. But still, I hoped against it, even as he said the words. No heartbeat. Empty sac. Missed miscarriage.

For six weeks I believed I was pregnant. Every future point I had thought about during those six weeks - my upcoming dentist appointment, presenting a report at work, the start of the new semester - included my pregnancy. But instead of sharing my good news with the dentist as I declined x-rays, the appointment was characterized by thoughts of how I would have been 16 weeks pregnant… Every aspect of my life was tinged with this loss, I could not escape it. The sadness lasted a long time. And even now, after three children, I have not forgotten the first.

But my perspective has changed over the years. At the time, I would have given anything to have my pregnancy back. Now I wouldn’t undo the miscarriage. Partly because of the children I have today that I might not have had if that first pregnancy had worked, but it extends beyond that. The miscarriage has greatly shaped the mother I have become. When Katherine was a newborn, no matter how exhausted I was or how frequently she wanted to nurse (every two hours day and night), I felt grateful to have a baby to nurse. How would I have handled the difficult newborn days if I had not been through a miscarriage? Would I have felt irritation towards my baby instead of gratitude? When she was a little older and had to be rocked to sleep for an hour and would still start screaming as soon as I set her down,* the frustration would well up inside me. But then I’d remember how I felt when I didn’t have a crying baby to soothe and my frustration would melt away. Would I have been able to savor rocking her to sleep if I didn’t know the devastation of miscarriage? Today, years later, I still call upon that loss to put my parenting challenges in perspective. The miscarriage does not give me infinite patience and compassion, but it does remind me that I really, really wanted to be doing this.

Now when I hear of a mother going through the grief of a miscarriage, my heart aches for her. But my own feelings of loss are gone. Only the memory of the loss remains, and it is a memory I am grateful to have. I think it makes me a better parent.

*Never take sleep advice from me.

No-need Time

Sun, 06 May 2012 10:59:52 -0400

I don’t enjoy playing with my kids. I know, it’s one of those things you aren’t supposed to feel, let alone admit, but I don’t. I used to feel guilty about this, that I felt restless and bored whenever I sat down to play cars or dolls. I would see other moms having so much fun playing with their kids… surely they loved their kids more than I loved mine, or at the very least they were better moms.

Then at a parent evening at Katherine’s school, while a bunch of parents were trading stories about all the wonderful play they enjoy with their kids, I felt a wave of irritation, no doubt stemming from a sense of inadequacy, and blurted out that I don’t like playing with my kids. To my surprise, the teacher smiled and nodded, as if this was quite common. “That is because you are not two years old,” she said. As this soaked in, the teacher went on to say it is ok to not enjoy playing with your kids and more than that, it is ok to not play with them. They don’t need us to play with them; being present doesn’t mean being their age-equivalent playmate. Relief washed over me. I did love my kids! I was a good mom - or at least not a bad mom due to not wanting to play with them. This revelation was very freeing for me. I didn’t have to spend my days making traffic jams, diapering dolls, and coloring. I could enjoy not playing with them.

Don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with my kids. I love listening to their chatter. I love seeing what they create. I love watching them play. As long as I am peripheral. In fact, I think my being peripheral changes the nature of their play in a good way. Remember the joy of being totally absorbed in a make-believe land? Dressing up and playing house in a fort built out of couch cushions and blankets? Or gathering grasses and weeds to mix into a muddy concoction that was really a stew to feed your baby bunny (aka, your little sister)? Remember how there were no adults watching (sometimes unfortunately for your little sister)? I remember this freedom, the space to create a land that only a child can create. A land adults cannot be part of. Staying peripheral gives my kids this space.

But just because I had made peace with the fact that I didn’t have to play with Katherine didn’t mean she had made peace with it. She was used to my half-assed participation in building traffic jams. I had to reset the standard. Her teacher suggested I set aside some time each day where neither of us needed the other. No-need time. At first, no-need time only lasted 10-15 minutes. But slowly Katherine got used to it and we had longer and longer stretches. Now no-need time is part of our daily rhythm and both Katherine and Clara seem to appreciate it. We can spend a morning together, each of us doing our own thing, sometimes coming together in order for me to try a sip of pretend chai that has been prepared in their kitchen, or to change the murky paint water. It is relaxing, fulfilling time together. It is peaceful.

If you happen to be thinking, wow, independent kids who are capable of going about their day with only minimal effort on my part, I assure you that is not the case. I do dress them, feed them, clean them, take them on outings, and all the other standard stuff. And, I’m still envious of those parents who genuinely like playing with their kids… they share something with their kids that I don’t and relate to them in a way that I can’t. But at least now when my kids try to get me to play with them, I can say no. Guilt-free.

(Sometimes this happens during no-need time. But never ever in the late afternoon hours when I need to make dinner.)

Toys for Thought

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 18:16:56 -0400

I am a snob when it comes to toys. The worst kind of snob, because not only am I one of those I-only-let-my-kids-play-with-wooden-toys parents*, but I make sure everyone around me knows it. I am sure I offend, or at the very least, irritate a lot of people with this attitude. But snobbery notwithstanding, I have given a lot of thought to why I insist on wooden toys. If my attitude stems from well thought-out opinions, even if others don’t share those opinions, then it’s (I’m) not quite as annoying, right? So here is my attempt to share why I feel the way I do about wooden toys.

The first reason has to do with a connection to nature. In my opinion, our culture puts up walls to separate us from nature, from structures that keep out wind, sun, and, rain, to appliances that neutralize natural temperature variation (i.e., my house growing up was always 68 degrees, no matter what the weather outside). I feel we are disconnected from nature. Wooden toys (or toys from any natural material - wool, cotton, etc.) offer contact with our natural environment. It is a way to bring nature through the walls we’ve built and into our homes. Plastic toys feel like another component of the barrier between children and nature.

The second reason comes from an explanation a teacher once gave during a parent discussion group. She made an analogy between toys and food. Food is nourishment, it allows us to grow and develop. The more natural and wholesome the food, the more nutritious it is. The more processed the food, the less nutritious it is. Toys are the same, nourishment for the mind and imagination, with natural toys being healthier than processed, artificial toys.

That is not to say I am anti-plastic. Although I do like bringing natural materials into my home for the whole nature connection thing, there is another component that tends to go with plastic toys, and that is complexity. I love the expression, “Toys should be 10% toy and 90% child”, meaning, children should have to do the work of making a toy what it is. For example, a red fire engine with a ladder, flashing lights and a nice, loud siren can only be a fire engine. It leaves no room for imagination. A simple block on wheels can be a fire engine, a police car, a roller skate, a doll sled, and on and on and on. In other words, the more a toy does, the less the child does. Plastic toys tend to be quite complex. I don’t really have anything against simple plastic toys.

I don’t know if any of this matters; children find a way to play no matter what they have or don’t have. But at the very least, I do know that sticking to wooden toys makes for a much quieter house, and for me, quiet house = sanity = better mom. That alone is reason enough to deprive my kids of noisy, plastic toys.

*I don’t actually only let my kids only play with wooden toys. Legos. Magna-tiles. Bath toys. Balls. And more. I guess that makes me an even worse kind of snob: a poser snob.

One kid, two kid, old kid, new kid

Sat, 28 Apr 2012 10:19:53 -0400

Since Alexandra arrived, people have asked me what the transition from two to three is like, if it is the similar to the transition from one to two. In my experience, the transition to each child has been different.

When Katherine was born, I had no idea who she was and it was a complete life change to have a baby in our home. I loved her even before she came out, but it was a primal type of love, an overwhelming need to protect her and care for her. It was only looking back after a few months, a year, two years that I realized the “new-born love” was different from the love that had deepened so much over time.

When I was pregnant with Clara, I wondered if I would truly love her as much as I loved Katherine. I knew Katherine, I had no idea who this new baby would be. Of course I loved Clara right away as I loved Katherine right away, but being the second child, it was different. Katherine was so familiar to me and she was also all I knew when it came to babies. And Clara wasn’t Katherine, so Clara seemed unfamiliar. Again, though in a different way, it took time for our bond to grow, but it did. However, an aspect of going from one to two that I was unprepared for was the sense of loss of no longer having an only child. My close bond with Katherine was disrupted and I wondered if we would ever find that closeness again (we did). On top of that, I felt guilty that I felt a loss with the arrival of the new baby. I suppose there is something very special about the first baby, something a mother doesn’t have time to savor with subsequent children. But seeing the relationship Katherine and Clara have as sisters far outweighs the sense of loss I felt at the beginning.

The transition from two to three has been entirely different. Having been through wondering if I would love #2 as I loved #1, I never doubted that I would love #3 just as much. I also didn’t feel any sense of loss, I knew the big sisters would (eventually) love having a new sibling. I had strategies for dealing with sibling jealousy. And I trusted that #3 was meant to be a part of our family in the same way Katherine and Clara were meant to be. With those uncertainties out of the way, Alexandra has eased right into our family. The challenge this time has been almost exclusively logistical. How do we do bath and bedtime with three kids and two parents? How do I prepare lunch for two hungry kids, change a blow out, nurse a screaming baby, and break up fights between the big sisters all at the same time? And why does the cat chose this moment to puke up the rubber bands someone must have left out on the counter? What do I deal with first? These paralyzing moments are my challenge now.

I have heard that any big family transition takes one year. I would say that is true. So by next February I should have the three-kid thing figured out.