Saved By The Nap

Cherry on Top

2014-07-07T15:31:00.000-04:00

My husband has had trouble in the past with giving blood. . . to the tune of fainting, getting all tingly, and having to lay down while old ladies fuss over him with cookies. But I didn't really think anything about that and the routine lab work we were going to do this morning.

After they took my blood, I came back out and told Dave that it looked like a lot (6 vials!), but it really wasn't and it went fast. I was trying to be positive. He said he didn't want to do it and may have rubbed his palms together in a nervous way, but I didn't think to worry.

Dave seemed to be gone for a while. Then the nurse came out. "Um. Your husband's not doing so well," she said. "He's lying down in the back. You may want to go to him."

She kind of looked at me funny when I laughed. I guess she doesn't know that it's the kind of thing we make fun of him for. Mercilessly.

He did look pretty bad--all white and sweaty. "Don't even say it," he said when I got in there. "I know I'm ridiculous." Then he moved on to telling me, "I feel bad. . . I feel bad. . ."

There's one minor (or major, depending on who you are) difference between going to the lab and donating blood with the Red Cross. At the lab, there are no old ladies or cookies or orange juice. And even if they have some candy in a back room somewhere, they say they'll get in trouble if they give it out. Even if Reese Cups are the one thing that will make a man feel better.

The kids and I trekked downstairs and got an apple from the van. But that wasn't sugary enough so off we went to CVS. On the upside, the kids had fun on their many elevator rides. We brought our invalid some Reese Cups and peanut butter M&M's. Lucky duck. I didn't even say anything about artificial colors and cancer.

On a side note, I just googled "are peanut butter M&M's bad for you?" and most of the posts said something like, "Help! I can't stop eating peanut butter M&M's!" so apparently most people have more of a problem with the addictive nature than with the red 40.

Did I mention there was also a not-fun diaper to change on the van floor in the midst of all this? And we were trying to do everything quickly so the kids could make their 9:45 swim lessons?

It turned out we were only a little late for the lessons. But one kid didn't want to go in the water, (I don't totally blame him. It was cold this morning!) which prompted the teacher to have a talk with me afterwards. Then we had epic meltdowns trying to change into normal clothes. One Mommy who hasn't eaten + one rambunctious toddler + one ornery preschooler in one tiny shower stall = not pretty and lots of "Don't touch each other!" and "You have to get dressed!" and "Your feet are wet because everything's wet!"

Because we all got dressed and Dave made it to work, I decided I should be rewarded with a Grande Decaf Iced Mocha from my favorite downtown coffee shop. It was delicious. It was grand. It was everything I hoped it would be.

Finally we made it home. On the way into the house I was carrying a bag of wet clothes, my coffee, and the dirty cloth diaper. One of the wipes fell out onto the driveway. Then, in a moment of what I can only describe as sheer brilliance, I leaned over to pick it up and dumped my delicious reward all over the driveway. That's what I call the Cherry On Top.

This Is Not My Hat by Jon Klassen: A Book Review (recommended for ages 4-8)

2014-06-24T13:47:00.002-04:00

In this book, a little fish steals a hat from a big fish and thinks he can get away with it. The sense of humor in this book is delightful. It won a Caldecott medal for the illustrations, which are hilarious and tell a good portion of the story by themselves. This is one that your kids will probably want to read over and over again and you'll be okay with that. You won't want to hide it in a closet after the twentieth read.

Every Day Deserves a Mocha

2014-06-18T13:12:00.000-04:00

This past Sunday we ate horribly. I mean the food tasted good. It just wasn't what I would call healthy. We had donuts with white flour, angel food cake, and baseball game fare. It was Father's Day and Dave's birthday so we had an excuse.

Then it all caught up with me. Well, not really me, but with the boys and their stomachs (and so me by extension). And I won't explain much further than that. . . But there was my proof in the laundry basket that eating healthy really does matter.

Dave felt bad for me after I texted him and told him that one kid was on outfit change #3 so he brought me some coffee after work. Win! It wasn't even that bad of an ordeal for me. I should text him more often.

Maybe I could tell him things like:

"Breakfast today consisted of the boys spitting and saying things like 'He shot his germ at me!'"

"A. thought those five minutes in the car were a real nap."

"Our four-year old talked back to me. I'm not ready."

"I baked and now the kitchen is a mess. I'm avoiding that room. Who am I kidding? The whole house is a mess. I'm hiding on the porch."

"It's bloody hot outside."

I wouldn't mind an iced decaf mocha every day. . . and I kind of feel like every day deserves one.

Do you think it will work?

What Happens When One Parent Goes Out of Town

2014-06-05T15:22:00.000-04:00

I wrote this a while ago, but am just now getting around to posting it. . .

Yesterday my morning started with E. telling me he peed in his bed. Then I went to get A. and the first thing he said to me was: "Poop. Big poop." Lovely. I would prefer it if he waited to have his bowel movements until after I've had my coffee.

Then today, in a rare turn of events, E. took a nap and A. did not. Actually, A. fell asleep in the car for about five minutes. It happened to be pouring down rain when I needed to transfer him from the car to his bed. That didn't work so well. I didn't count the five minutes of sleep in the van as an actual nap, but he did.

E. woke up from his nap super cranky. He didn't want anyone to speak. He told me he wanted me to have nothing. I didn't ask, but I'm pretty sure he meant anything in life, ever. Then he didn't want dinner. He only liked long bacon not cut-up bacon. And this went on and on.

And finally seven p.m. rolled around and I thought I'd pretty much made it to bedtime. But the day wasn't over yet. A. rolled away from me while I was trying to get p.j.'s on him. I told him to come back, which he did at a full-out run just as I was reaching back from getting something. I elbowed him in the face. I decided to risk it and comfort him while he was naked. I'm sure you can guess what happened next. I didn't even feel it, but he pulled away from our hug and pointed to my pants. "Did you pee on me?" I asked him. "Yeah," he said. At least he's honest.

And that's how things go when Dave is out of town.

Pop! The Invention of Bubble Gum by Meghan McCarthy: A Book Review (recommended for ages 4-8)

2014-04-25T14:22:00.002-04:00

This book takes quirky little factoids about how bubble gum was invented by an accountant and turns it into a fun, interesting read. The illustrations are great, too. They capture the magic of mixing a little of this and a little of that until, voila!, you have bubble gum!

This book is great for everyone; parents and kids alike will learn a fact or two about bubble gum and how it came to be. I had no idea regular gum had been around for so long, but bubble gum wasn't invented until the 1920's!

This book makes me happy. And, bonus: My four-year-old didn't ask me to buy gum after we read the book.

Check out Meghan's website for more information.

Top Nine Must-Read Nonfiction Picture Books for Your Preschooler / Kindergartner

2014-04-16T15:03:00.001-04:00

A quirky story about the invention of bubble gum.

The 1938 War of the Worlds radio broadcast incites panic.

The story of how Jacques Cousteau fell in love with the ocean and made diving and documenting the underwater world his life's work.

A poetic and rhythmic tale about the lightship and its important job.

You won't want to miss the story of the Apollo 11 space mission.

An important story about a brave young girl who leads one of the largest strikes of women workers in U.S. history.

Jen Bryan's biography of the poet/doctor William Carlos Williams makes his life easily accessible to all ages.

The story of Paul Erdos, a genius mathematician who travels the world.

Philippe Petit stretches a wire between the towers of the World Trade Center and entertains onlookers.

You don't want to miss these!

How to Get Your Kids Ready to Leave the House for a Pool / Picnic Play Date

2014-04-02T14:45:00.000-04:00

-Start getting ready an hour before you have to leave.

-Locate the swimsuits.

-Put the swimsuit on kid #2. Tell kid #1 to put his on. (He is bouncing on his bed.)

-Pack the towels, swim toys, and flotation devices.

-Remind kid #1 to put his bathing suit on.

-Pack everyone a change of clothes for after swimming.

-Put your own swim suit on. Avoid the mirror. If that is impossible, stick with a front-on angle. Whatever you do, don't turn to the side to see how much your belly sticks out. That will just send you on a downward spiral and you'll remember how last time you went to the pool, someone asked if you were pregnant. You weren't. Still aren't.

-Raise your arms. Yep, it's a hairy beast under there. Head to the bathroom for a quick dry-shave.

-Close kid #1 in his room and tell him he can't come out until he has his bathing suit on.

-Scrape together some food to pack for lunch. Throw a whole bag of baby carrots in. There's no time to pack individual bags. And let's be real; you're the only one who is going to eat the carrots anyway.

-Fill up water bottles.

-Listen to kid #1. Yep. He has gotten distracted and is now playing with toys in his room.

-Say, "Vitamin Time!" very loudly next to his door, so he'll be more motivated to get dressed.

-It worked! Kid #1 finally comes out. Everyone does the vitamin dance because you bought gummy vitamins. But you have the plain kind you have to swallow. No happy vitamin dance for you.

-Throw your hair into a ponytail.

-Listen to the sound of a heavy crash in living room.

-Come out to find that kid #2 has somehow unscrewed the lid from the mason jar and dumped a crap-ton of water all over the hardwood floor.

-Grunt in exasperation and mumble about not even being able to put your hair up.

-Throw kid #2 into the crib.

-Grab a towel. Enlist kid #1's help because one towel is not enough. Bribe him with being able to put a sticker on his good behavior chart.

-Use three towels to mop up all the water.

-Listen as another unfamiliar noise arises from the bedroom. Check on kid #2.

-Whoops. You put him in his crib while he was holding a pencil! You now have "art" all over your wall. There's no one to blame but yourself.

It may look something like this:

-Call your spouse and tell him to make you laugh so you don't cry.

-Shoot down his "eraser party" idea. At least he tried.

-Tell kid #1 to put his shoes on and go to the bathroom.

-Chase kid #2 down to get his shoes on.

-Realize the kids found a packet of confetti, opened it and sprinkled it all around the house. You now have tiny stars, moons, and the word "baby" all over the house and on the bottom of your feet. Curse whoever included the packet in a card (you can't remember who) and curse yourself for not throwing it away when you had the chance.

-Round up the kids, the pool bag, the picnic bag, the diaper bag, and your purse. Congratulations. You're ready to go and you're only fifteen minutes late!

My Crazy Week

2014-03-18T13:58:00.003-04:00

On Tuesday I got into a car accident. A line of cars was braking and everyone stopped--except the girl behind me. She slammed into my rear bumper. I got some whiplash, but the kids seemed fine. Somehow, in the midst of it all, I did manage to save the dessert on the passenger's seat from launching onto the floor. You can see where my priorities are!

I would never wish for a car accident, but it has been handy to reinforce what we have been saying to E. about the necessity of seat belts and sitting in your seat properly.

Then on Wednesday, we needed milk. Actually, we needed milk on Monday, but I kept putting off the errand (something about two boys, a small space, and glass bottles made me less than enthusiastic). The back of our car was scraped up, but that was all, so I didn't think anything of going downtown to get some milk. I even bought an extra half gallon to make some yogurt, which brought our total up to a gallon and a half. I loaded everyone into the car, turned the key, and heard nothing. Absolutely nothing. Really? Is this really happening? I asked myself, a question I would keep asking as the week went on.

I tried to call Dave, but I wasn't getting any cell phone service (it was a cloudy day) and I had hardly any battery left. I tried calling a friend for a ride, but . . . still, no service. . .

Right. Alright. So we're really doing this. . .

Thank the Lord, my stroller, huge beast that it is, was in my trunk. I unloaded the kids, reloaded them into the stroller, along with some chicken and three glass bottles full of milk. It was one time I was thankful for a messy car since we had plenty of hats and mittens to keep everyone warm on the almost-two-mile hike back home.

About ten minutes down the road, I was able to reach Dave and he started trying to figure out what to do about the car, which was parked in a two-hour space. He called the city ("please be lenient, we're trying to move our car!") and a towing/auto repair place. But what do you know? The tow truck guy needed the car key. Well, I was not turning around after I had already been walking for half an hour. No, sir. Not a chance. Dave decided (with a little help from me. . . ) to drop the key off on the way home from work and to pray the city would not give us a ticket in the meantime.

The kids and I stopped off at a park on the way and met some friends. Why miss out on a play-date just because of some minor car trouble?

Then the coup de gras on the day: we made it all the way home, and, as I was pushing our stroller up the driveway, one of the milk bottles fell out and shattered, sending a river of whole, grass-fed, low-pasteurized milk down the sidewalk. (Really? Did that just happen!?) I managed to lug them all the way home and then mere feet from door, one half-gallon falls out and breaks??? Whatever. I wanted to go to bed and wake up on a different day. But even that wouldn't have helped. . .

On Thursday, in an unprecedented moment of stupidity--even for me--I put our laptop too close to a candle and burned a big hole into the back of the monitor. I caught it before it went too far, so to speak, but now we have a permanent gray mark about the size of a lime on our computer screen. I thought about blaming the kids, but I'd still come out looking bad for letting my kids play with candles. Oh well. The maple pancake smell was good while it lasted.

P.S. Our car has started every single time since that adventurous morning.

List of 42 New Goals (2014)

2014-03-10T11:46:00.002-04:00

Books to Read
1. The Wizard of Oz
2. The House of Spirits- Isabelle Allende
3. Peter Pan
4. The Tiger's Wife
5. Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
6. How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia
7. Woman Hollering Creek
8. 7 Habits of Highly Effective People
9. 28 Days to the Work You Love

10. Gaining Ground-Forrest Pritchard

Exercise
11. Complete the P90X Program

Giving
12. Donate something to charity (more than old stuff to Goodwill)
13. Volunteer somewhere
14. Write an anonymous appreciation note
15. Write down 365 blessings I'm grateful for
16. Donate hair to Locks of Love

Career
17. Finish writing a children's book and send it out

Experiences
18. Pick a place on a map and drive there
19. Plant an herb garden
20. Learn to draw
21. Take and finish a class on coursera
22. Memorize the words to Auld Lang Syne
23. Learn a new dance
24. Do a pull-up
25. Change own oil
26. Find a good dentist and take the whole family there
27. Visit Old Town Alexandria, VA

Money
28. Go 1 month without eating out
29. Use cash envelopes every month. Nothing on the credit card except gas.
30. Get term life insurance for me
31. Make our wills

Food to Try
32. Jicama
33. Kefir
34. Kombucha
35. Nutritional Yeast
36. Parsnip

Movies to Watch
37. Notorious
38. Chariots of Fire
39. Monty Python and the Holy Grail
40. It Happened One Night
41. His Girl Friday
42. Sunset Boulevard

52 New Things: A List of Goals for My 30th Year (Update)

2014-02-28T14:14:00.001-05:00

I loved working on my list of 52 new things this past year. I only managed to accomplish 41, but I'm still proud of myself. That's 41 new things! Some of the items I would have done anyway, but there are others I know I only attempted because they were on "the list" (i.e. trying rutabaga, venison, etc).

I love being intentional about goals, big and small. I plan to continue to make lists of new things. Stay tuned for my list of things to accomplish in my 31st year.
(The green-highlighted ones are done and the others will roll over to the next list).

Food

1. Try Egg Nog

2. Eat rutabaga

3. Eat rubarb

4. Eat a parsnip

5. Eat real sushi

6. Try sashimi

7. Eat venison

8. Make cheese

9. Make yogurt

10. Make nut butter

11. Eat scallops

12. Try pistachio ice cream

13. Try cheese fondue

Hobbies

14. Knit gloves

15. Knit mittens

16. Knit socks

17. Sew a skirt

18. Sew place-mats

19. Sew pajama pants

20. Make soap

21.Learn to spin yarn

22. Make own deodorant

Books

23. Read Anna Karenina

24. Read a travel literature book

25. Read an autobiography

26. Read Lolita by Nabokov

27. Read Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace

28. Read Rabbit, Run by John Updike

29. Read My Antonia by Willa Cather

Sports

30. Run an 8K

31. Go wakeboarding

32. Go golfing

Experiences

33. Watch a sunrise and sunset in one day

34. Get a tattoo

35. Sing Karaoke

36. Feet in more than one state at once

37. Drive over 100 mph

38. Make a kite and fly it

39. Plant an apple tree

40. Kiss in the rain

41. Learn a new dance

42. Milk a cow

43. Do a pull-up

44. Do own taxes

45. Change own oil

Movies

46. Watch Terms of Endearment

47. Watch Some Like it Hot

48. Watch Risky Business

49. Watch One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest

50. Watch Pulp Fiction

51. Watch a John Wayne movie

52. See an IMAX movie

Just Another Manic Monday (Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday,Friday,Saturday, Sunday)

2014-02-20T14:02:00.000-05:00

Parenting makes me feel manic--up, down, up, down like an elevator in an old-people's home.

I feel joy when I see those angelic faces.

When I see those silly faces.

When I walk in to get A. up in the morning and he says, "Morning!" in his high, soft voice.

When I snuggle up on the couch with the kids and read to them.

And then.

There are those other times when I wonder how I'm going to make it through the next five minutes or the 1 hour 36 minutes and 29 seconds until bedtime.

When E. says, "Poopy Diaper" for the ~~millionth~~ billionth time.

When A. screams, loud ear-piercing screams. (I won't subject you to a video of them.)

When E. bonks his head on the floor, door, washing machine so that A. will copy him.

And the nose-picking. So tired of the nose-picking.

We can be having a lovely moment. All feels right in the world. Little birds are chirping. My life is like a scene from Pollyanna (pre-fall Pollyanna) and I feel like I could have a dozen kids. And then, as quick as you can say, "Poopy diaper," it all falls apart and I wonder what I'm going to do with the two kids I have.

And when I do make it through the day, at 7:30 p.m. I feel like I deserve a reward, such as chocolate mousse and not one, but two servings. (Yes, I had two cups of chocolate mousse last night and that was on a day when Dave was home from work! But, I suppose that deserves its own set of rewards.)

I love chocolate mousse. I think Heaven is not only going to have streets of gold, but rivers of chocolate mousse and lots of mochas and biscotti, but that's another topic.

Yesterday when E. asked if I was making dessert, the best I could come up with was: "Um. . . kind of. It's mostly eggs and whipped cream."

Thankfully, Daddy distracted him and he accepted my lame answer. Otherwise, I would have had to launch into how it actually was going to be fluffy, decadent chocolate and how I was going to savor it after he went to bed so I didn't have to share it. That's right even though I harp about how "Sharing is caring" and all that crap, when it comes to me and my mousse, my mantra doesn't apply and I turn into a hypocrite. But not entirely. I did share with Dave--a little bit. I saved the rest for tomorrow's nap time as a reward for making it through the morning. Yay me.

Up again. E. tells me, "You're so nice to me," even though I lost my temper with him an hour earlier. That unconditional love and forgiveness send me sky high. And those peaceful sleeping faces.

And I wouldn't change being a mom for anything.

Delicious Snow Ice Cream Recipe

2014-01-24T13:51:00.001-05:00

We finally got some snow in Virginia! Besides building a pitiful snowman (Dave called it an anthill), we also decided to give snow ice cream a try. I had no idea how delicious it could be!

Here's the recipe:

1 cup Milk

1/3 cup Brown Sugar (you could also use white granulated sugar, but the brown sugar complements the vanilla nicely)

1 tsp. Vanilla Extract

10 cups of Snow!

1. Whisk together the milk, brown sugar, and vanilla. Run outside and find some clean snow. You could also put a bucket outside when it starts snowing, but who thinks that far ahead? For me, this meant getting snow from the front yard, not the backyard where the dogs and chickens, ahem, do their business. Go wherever the clean snow is!

2. Fold the snow into the milk/sugar mixture.

3. Serve immediately and enjoy!

Snow ice cream makes a good bribe for getting kids to eat their dinner. It didn't work on my kid, but maybe it will work on yours! Here's hoping. . .

'Nuff Said Friday

2014-01-03T08:00:00.000-05:00

'Nuff Said Friday

2013-12-27T08:00:00.000-05:00

'Nuff Said Friday

2013-12-20T08:00:00.000-05:00

Oh Christmas Tree

2013-12-13T13:56:00.001-05:00

Our Christmas tree sucks this year. First of all, it is a soft-needle tree that was part of our CSA. It's our first year with this type and it didn't take long to learn that the branches aren't firm enough to support all of our ornaments--or hardly any of them. Every time I hung something, it fell right back down. To even have a chance of getting the ornament to stay, I had to shove it way down the branch, almost to the point where I couldn't see it anymore. Then what's the point? So we only hung ornaments that looked like they could stand the test of plummeting to the ground from six feet up. This was a bummer because both mine and Dave's parents' gave us an ornament a year for our entire childhoods. Many of them represent whatever we were interested in that particular year. We were only able to reminisce only a couple minutes before we wrapped the keepsakes back up and returned them to the box.

So not even a quarter of our ornaments are hanging on the tree. And if that weren't bad enough, those ornaments are only decorating the top half of the tree. I like to think I'm a pretty laid-back parent and that I give the kids a certain measure of freedom. . . but everyone has their limits. We started off letting E. put the softer ornaments towards the bottom of the tree and A. "help."

These guys made the cut.

As the days went by, A. (who is 17 months old) would hurl himself into the tree, grab an ornament, and then throw it on the ground next to all the needles he had shaken loose. Then the dogs took that as a sign they had new toys and started eating them. So as each ornament met it's fate and was saved, it moved farther up the tree. Now let's have a moment of silence for those we did not rescue in time.

Here is our tree:

I feel like I should explain. . . We strung popcorn for the first time this year. The project surprisingly kept E. interested for 30 minutes! That's huge in the toddler world. It made me start to wonder what other mundane projects could we do in the evenings. Then we wouldn't have to rely so heavily on a bath to get through the witching hour before bed. I'm still scheming about this.

Although E. remained interested, one strand was all that I had in me. It was extremely time consuming just to make a three-foot length. We probably should have stuck to something easier like fruit loops. Oh well.

Also, our angel is slowly bending towards the couch as if she's ashamed of our tree and wants to get off. It reminds me of the scene from A Charlie Brown Christmas when Charlie Brown hangs an ornament on his tiny tree and it bends in half. He says, "I've killed it!"

I feel you, Charlie Brown. My tree is just dying a slower death than yours.

Slow Family Living: A Book Review

2013-11-15T14:01:00.000-05:00

Dave and I have a difference of opinion when it comes to relaxing. He likes to nap or watch a sports game. I don't like napping and I'm not very good at not doing anything. I panic. I look around and see all the dog hair on the carpet. My knitting needles call to me. I even start to feel sorry for the dogs and think about being dragged down the sidewalk, I mean, take them for a walk. That's how desperate I get. Although it sounds counterintuitive, being productive is relaxing for me.

So I'm sure Dave was excited when I brought home Slow Family Living: 75 Simple Ways to Slow Down, Connect, and Create More Joy by Bernadette Noll. There are so many great ideas in this book for how to step out of the daily (monthly, yearly) grind and be intentional about connecting and enjoying your family. Noll includes everything from setting up a tent in the backyard to cleaning blitzes to throwing the rules out the window and letting the kids stay up as late as they want. In our world of Instagram, Texting, Twitter, Facebook, Wii, etc, we could use a little slowing down, looking our family members in eyes, and doing something together. With 75 different ideas, everyone is sure to find at least a few that they could incorporate into their lives.

Unfortunately for Dave, the book didn't change my dislike for naps, but it did make me think about having a dance party in the living room.

Major Blowout at Chick-Fil-A

2013-10-25T13:26:00.000-04:00

I saw that look of disgruntled determination on A.'s face towards the end of our meal. My suspicions were confirmed when, about a minute later, Dave said he smelled something awful.

These things always happen when you don't have an extra diaper with you--or wipes, don't they? We were getting a little too confident about our parenting skills and left home without our diaper bag. We have since been humbled.

I don't want to be too gross or graphic, but there are reasons I love cloth diapers and one of them is the nice bit of elastic at the top that keeps "stuff" contained. Unfortunately, A. wasn't wearing a cloth diaper.

Dave and I split up. I volunteered to clean the highchair while he took A. to the bathroom. And now I know why people use those cart and highchair cover things. I am not a germaphobe in the least, so I never understood them before. But now I realize they are appealing because you never know what was there before you. It could have been an A. explosion. (I cleaned it up really well and used those Purell moist towelette things, but still.)

Dave said he was dry-heaving in the bathroom and I thought I might lose my waffle fries. That's how bad it was.

I sent E. in to the men's bathroom with a handful of more moist towelettes. That was my contribution. Then I sat at a nearby table and waited. I saw one man open the door, take one step inside, and hightail it back out. No joke. A good while later, Dave and A. came out, A. wearing nothing but Dave's humongous sweater. Then we did the walk of shame through the rest of the restaurant. Not only did our kid have the most disgusting diaper of his life, but we were also super unprepared. That's right teenyboppers, this is what you have to look forward to. I'd like to think we were a walking advertisement for birth control.

The Silver Pony by Lynd Ward: A Book Review

2013-10-21T15:38:00.000-04:00

When I first checked out The Silver Pony from the library, I thought the librarian had made a mistake. The huge book wasn't something I had requested for myself and it looked too big for E. But I was wrong; I had requested it, as per the recommendation of Jim Trelease in The Read Aloud Handbook. And I'm so glad I did; it turned out to be a beautiful story in pictures.

Although it seems massive for a preschooler, it didn't take us long to read. (I guess it depends on how much text you make up to go along with the pictures.) But don't be daunted if you don't feel like you are super creative when it comes to wordless books, the pictures tell the story so well, you won't have to dig deep to find words to add. The pictures depict a young farm boy who gets whisks away from the farm by a silver pony. Together, they go on a grand adventure, see the world, and meet new people. The illustrations are ones you won't want to miss.

One caveat: There is a point in the story where the young boy gets spanked by his father. Be prepared to answer questions about that form of discipline if you read this book with your child.

I don't know about you, but I could use an an adventure with a silver pony today.

Book Review: Bedtime for Frances by Russell Hoban (recommended for ages 4-8)

2013-09-24T11:27:00.000-04:00

I'd seen the title of Bedtime for Frances around and when it appeared in Jim Trelease's Read Aloud Handbook (highly recommend!), I borrowed it from the library. To my surprise, I found out that Frances is quite a demanding little bugger and quite adept at delaying her bedtime.

I like the inclusion of time and the alphabet in this book, but really don't want to put the idea in my kids' heads that if they get out of bed, and Mommy and Daddy are eating cake, they'll get a piece, too. Oh, no. Mother and Father Badger are much more accommodating than I am. Once 7:30 p.m. rolls around, I am done. D.O.N.E., done. And I'm not sharing the chocolate ice cream I've been squirreling away and looking forward to since 6 a.m. when the kids woke me up.

After a long time of putting off bedtime, Father Badger eventually loses his patience and resorts to threatening. Now that I can relate to! Finally, a glimpse of reality. And it works, too. Frances actually stays in bed.

The book does encourage kids to face fears and ends with Frances realizing it's "my job to sleep," but I'm not willing to risk that line flying over E.'s head and all the rest of the delay tactics and fears sinking in. My sanity depends on that strict bedtime. My alone time with my husband does as well. And my bowl of ice cream. Sorry, Frances. You're cute, but not cute enough.

The Shallow Well of Sympathy

2013-09-12T14:36:00.000-04:00

E. scraped his ankle on some cinder-blocks the other day. I think it might have been the worst injury he's had to date, besides the giant nosebleed that happened yesterday, but that's a different story. Let's just say it involved two beds and E. trying to superman between them.

Anyway, the ankle scrape wasn't that bad, but you'd have thought the world was ending. He cried and just wanted to be held, which wasn't always possible since kid #2 was climbing on the same cinder-blocks and he doesn't quite have the whole balance thing mastered yet. I kept thinking that the crying and whining would stop. But it went on for a long long time: during our entire trek across a soccer field to get to the car and continued throughout the duration of our drive home.

"You're okay, Buddy," I told him.
"Oh, but," (his two new favorite words) "I don't want a boo boo."
I thought about saying "too bad" or "it's a little too late for that" or the ever-enduring "if you don't stop crying, I'm going to give you something to cry about," but in a more generous moment, opted for: "You already have it. Now you'll have to wait for it to get better."
"Oh, but it hurts. I want you to pick me up."

At this point, I was reminded of just how little compassion I have. I think I might be missing the empathy gene. My husband can attest to this character flaw of mine. Just ask him about the time he cut his finger with a hand saw and had to get stitches. He had to yell and fall to the ground just to get me to stop what I was doing and come over. Then I had to endure 2 weeks of looking at the wound, talking about the wound, bandaging the wound, and putting plastic bags on the wound so it didn't get wet. To be brutally honest, most of all, I resented having to do all the dishes myself. It was the longest two weeks of my life. . . I mean. . . I was very supportive and really felt for the guy.

Where was I? Oh yeah. No compassion.

I think E. inherited Dave's tolerance for pain. When we got home, he limped around, saying he couldn't run fast, only slow and need to walk on tiptoe. I might have rolled my eyes here. I'm not sure.

After about an hour, or maybe twenty minutes, I couldn't take it anymore. My shallow well of sympathy had run dry, so I told E.: "I think you need to toughen up."
"Oh, but I don't know how."
"You just look at your boo boo and say I'm okay and then you keep playing."

After he slept on it for a night, he decided to take my advice.

Natural Consequences- Bah!

2013-06-19T20:46:00.001-04:00

Before I had kids I thought I would rely heavily on natural consequences for discipline. That was before E. He manages to render natural consequences powerless at the drop of a toy.

Here's how it's supposed to work:

If a child doesn't want to wear a coat in the dead of winter you let them go without. Then a happy (albeit somewhat smug) mother stands at the door watching as her son spends exactly one minute outside. She smiles as he runs back to her to grab his jacket. She doesn't have to say, "I told you so," because he just knows and they will never have that battle again. At least, that is what I picture.

Or you let your child's teeth feel dirty and icky if he refuses to brush them. And you wait until he comes crawling back to you with toothbrush in hand, begging you to put the toothpaste on the brush.

And if he throws a book across the room, he loses the privilege of reading it. Then he becomes very sad and he vows never to toss books into the air again. He keeps that promise.

This is not my life. I have a superhuman toddler who could care less if he's freezing. I could finish a good-sized book--like the Bible--waiting for him to come in because he was cold. He doesn't mind that gritty film on his teeth. And he'd go get a different book if I took one away. I know, because we have a graveyard of forgotten books and toys on the top of our bookshelf.

What I really need to know is: what is the consequence for a complete kicking-and-screaming meltdown because he doesn't want to leave the sand mountain? Or the sobbing because I didn't realize that he really really really wanted to put the banana in the blender when we were making smoothies? Or constantly "digging for gold" in his nose? (He doesn't mind the natural consequence of nosebleeds.)

Maybe the question I should be asking is: Who are those angelic kids the books reference when they prescribe the natural consequences method and how can I get one of them next time?

My First Real Quilt

2013-04-11T07:38:00.001-04:00

This project was not on my list of 52 new things, but it's a new endeavor all the same.

This is for my 3 1/2 year old, complete with helicopters, planes, trucks, cars, and rockets.

52 New Things #7 (Knit Mittens)

2013-03-18T12:59:00.000-04:00

A Mommy Rite-Of-Passage

2013-02-21T07:47:00.000-05:00

It had to happen sometime, right? Someday my curious, experimental son would shove something in one of the (not so) cavernous holes on his body. He chose the ear. I'm thankful it wasn't his nose.

When I got E. out of his quiet time the other day, he told me he had something in his ear: "Ear put," to be exact. I didn't know what he was talking about. Ear plug? I kept asking and looking in there. I couldn't see anything, but imagined a wheel from a matchbox car and a trip to Patient First in our near future.

I got a flashlight and was able to see a little black thing in there. Then E. volunteered that it was a stick.Of course! What?

Dave was napping so I gently and lovingly awakened him (Shove. Shove. "Hey! Wake up and hold this flashlight!). I got the tweezers and saw what I was about to do ending either really well or really poorly. Maybe I should have taken him in somewhere, but I'm an avid do-it-yourself-er and. . . I'm cheap.

I must say, there's an amazing sense of accomplishment that comes from pulling something small out of your kids ear with tweezers. Turns out, it was a little piece of bark. I guess the homemade wooden blocks (do-it-yourself-er!) didn't turn out so well and five layers of Modpodge weren't enough to keep all the bark on the block. Now I know I probably should have sanded it off in the first place. . . Well, you learn as you go, right?

So then we had a talk about how we don't put things in the holes of our bodies. And Dave contributed by adding that if you put stuff up there, your ear will break and no doctors will ever ever be able to fix it. (He does have a flare for melodrama at times; it's one of the things I love about him.) I'm not sure that warning really sunk in, though, because the next morning E. said, "Mommy, if your eye breaks, I will fix it."
I think I'm raising an optimist.