All The World's A Stage.

Let me state for the record. I LOVE SHOW AND TELL!
Here's why.
I grew up in Scotland. We didn't have it.
I watched American TV shows in awe and wonder.
Between Show and Tell and Lockers - I wanted, so badly, to go to school in the States.

It is no surprise then, that the six year old also LOVES Show and Tell.
It is possible that I have talked it up so I can live vicariously through her.
It's also possible that she is a born actress and Show and Tell is her first stage.

It's actually informal in her classroom. It is done at lunchtime and you can bring something everyday or never - it's up to the child.
Guess who wants to do it everyday?

So we already know that I like the idea, It's sweet that she has my Show and Tell bug but every morning. It's no small feat. We have to find something different, five days a week.
That's at least twenty objects a month.
We usually have to find this object between 7.28 and 7.30am as the threat of the school bus leaving without us weighs heavily on me.

Next comes the 'appropriate' conversation. Taking a cuddly toy almost as big as she is - not practical - but how many six year olds do you know who even know the meaning of the word?
Something fragile - not practical.
Family heirloom - not practical.
I could go on.

I am fairly certain we have had several encore presentations but no-one seems to care.
She has taken a rock, a dead bug, every stuffed toy she owns (that fits in her backpack), photos, food, clothes, her favorite toy, her smallest toy, books, candles and a lump of Playdoh ("It's special to me mama.")
I think if she could get her bedroom furniture past me - she would take it too.

Her never ending enthusiasm is infectious. I find myself eyeing objects and suggesting them as candidates.
As she boarded the bus this morning with her stuffed snake worn as a scarf - I can picture her standing in front of her class telling her snake story.
I can't help but feel a little bit of my own childhood dream came true.

Market Meltdown.

Food shopping. The arch nemesis of mothers.
We've all seen a supermarket meltdown.
Sometimes it's our kid and sometimes (thankfully) it's not.

It seems the supermarkets feel our pain. They are trying to make it easier.
Now there are carts with a little kid car on the front - genius!
They may he deceptively long and difficult to steer but they keep the kids happy.
They are not at our favorite market though.

Instead they have two kiddie distraction tools.
One is a soft toy hidden in the store.
Once spotted you report the location to a member of staff and get a treat in return.
Fun!
The other is the mini cart.

Oh, the mini cart. So cute and yet I cringe every time I see one.
This one has a little pole and flag with 'Customer in Training' on it.
Adorable.
Unless it is being driven by an EXTREMELY independently minded (stubborn) 20 month old.

My dread begins when we first enter the store. Will there be a kiddie cart available?
If not - we may as well leave. I have visions of the baby tackling another kid for one.

Yesterday, we made it past the first hurdle. We got a cart.
My next challenge is to control what goes in the cart.
I'm not sure how she managed it but I found a six pack of beer in there.
Removing unauthorized selections is a delicate operation.
I need to be stealthy. "Oh look is that the hidden cuddly toy?"
I am successful. For now.

The second challenge is to avoid a lawsuit as she barrels around the store.
No ankles are safe.

We make it to the check out. I need to be vigilant for more unauthorized goods.
Today, just to spice things up, that's not the issue.
The mini cart seems less full than it was five minutes ago.
Where are the boxes of cereal?
What happened to the crackers and cheese?
Didn't we pick out bananas?

As I exclaim my confusion to the cashier - a woman in at the next register pipes up.
"I saw her removing lots of things in the wine aisle - I thought she just didn't want them anymore."
There are two points here.

Really? You thought a baby was re-thinking her purchases?
You didn't think it would be helpful to point it out to the mom?

The second point might be that perhaps , just maybe, I was too focused on my wine selections to notice the baby discarding our food all over the store.....
Feeling more than a little embarrassed, I watch as a staff member is dispatched to retrieve our missing goods.

The final stage to the whole horrifying process is saying goodbye to the cart.
This always involves tears and often a full scale tantrum.
Yesterday she surpassed herself and knocked the cart to the ground.

It's always fun to look up and see the disapproving stares of an entire supermarket.
Next week we are eating take out - all week.

Neverland.

The baby is smart. How do I know?

She has only just started talking and already her favorite five statements are to her advantage.

"I want that."

"Mine.'

"More."

"Eat now"

and

"Want bath."

I think I'm going to take her lead. How lovely would life be if you could conduct it with just those words?
I know that adding please and thank you would be sweet and likely necessary if you are not under two feet, with a cute toothy grin but I think I might try it.

I can see myself in Nordstrom pointing at some cute new clothes and simply stating "I want that."
No money required - you just get it.

Imagine how fun it would be at your favorite restaurant if you could just point at your plate and say "more" and a top up of your favorite dish arrived.

A warm bath on demand and someone to shampoo your hair.
The more I think about it, the more I like it. The baby has it made.

We are working on manners. Our first attempts were confusing. I was making dinner. Baby said "peas!" I got very excited, as any parent would, at the request for vegetables. I immediately popped a few in a pot and presented them a few minutes later.
The baby mashed them, threw them and hid them under her leg.
"Peas!" She said with a hint of frustration. "Peas, peas. peas!"
"You have peas" I say, looking confused.
"NO!"
Much later I work out she was saying please. I have now guaranteed that she will not say please or eat peas for a while.

I know that babies are very ego centric but it's interesting that those are the words she (and every other kid I know) gravitate towards first.
Why not "You have" or "I don't need anything right now mother, why don't you sit down and enjoy your tea while it's hot."

The fact that each abruptly stated request is met with huge excitement and enthusiasm probably doesn't help.
Why bother learning to be polite if stating MORE! gets you what you wanted and a round of applause?

Growing up is over rated.

Hammer Time.

I think it would be a stretch to describe me as a complete feminist. I believe in a lot of the principles of feminism and I certainly think women are capable of doing anything they want to do. I was however raised in a traditional household where the woman shopped, cooked and cleaned and the man worked. I default to that. Not because I think I should (or am expected to.) It's just habit and convenience - since I am a stay at home mom.

I am very aware that I am raising two girls though. One day they will be young women and I want them to see the world in terms of equal opportunity. With that in mind I have consciously tried to show them that I am capable of anything.
When something is broken I (try) to fix it. I lift and move heavy things. I show them that I understand the basic workings of my car and that I can maintain it. (Yes that is the sound of my husband laughing out loud.)

If I'm not able to do something I give a reason that doesn't involve gender.
"This is a two person job."
When there is a spider - I take it out.
I chase monsters from under the bed with authority.
We have gone away - just us girls.
I thought I was doing a really nice job.

At the infamous swim party a few weeks back, the six year old received a party favor.
It was a geode. Not familiar - neither was I.
The six year old reliably informs me "You smash it and there's a crystal inside!"
"Great!" I say "Let's do it."

We try with our hands but it becomes clear this won't do.
"Let's get a hammer." I say.

"But that's Daddy's job." says the six year old.

WHAT?????
I am crushed, indignant, insulted and embarressed all at once.
My daughter thinks I can't handle a hammer.
Where did I go wrong?

What do I need to do around here to show her that I can use tools -
wear a hard hat and overalls?
As you can imagine that geode took the brunt of my indignation.
I showed it who could use a hammer.

Maybe Daddy needs to cook more dinners. Maybe he needs to take them to the supermarket, maybe I need to walk through the house carrying lumber on a regular basis.
Maybe I just need to accept that I am who I am and she will be who she will be.

I can tell you one thing for sure though. The upcoming birthday is going to involve a toolbelt.
It may be pink with flowers but it will have a hammer.

Rainy Days.

I like my house.
I like my children.
Why is spending time in the house with the children so tough?

Here in Northern California it knows how to rain.
This from a girl who grew up in a country where rain is synonymous.
Rain here is the type that bounces back 2 feet off the ground.
It also likes to settle in. We are in day five of a predicted ten day stretch.
I have already run out of rainy day ideas and patience.

I can just see my parents faces. The look of exasperation. "You have a room full of toys - go play."
It's possible that I am wearing that face and stealing their line.

Trying to set up activities that will keep both the six year and the baby happy, is so difficult.
Setting them up with different, age appropriate, activities is pointless.
The baby only wants to do what her sister is doing.

We have crafted, baked, read, played games and dress up. Rode scooters in the house.
Wrote and performed a play. Watched a movie. Taken a really long bath.
We have been to the mall and the library. We have dressed for rain and jumped in puddles.
I have exhausted my repertoire.
Frankly, I have exhausted myself.

The house feels small. Tiny in fact. The children seem bigger and louder.
How am I going to make it through another FIVE days?

I can't pick up toys fast enough. Every room in the house is messy.
I know that one day they will be out of this house and I will look back on these days with envy.
I know that I am lucky to have this time.
I know that I shouldn't care and just enjoy this time with my girls.

I do and then.... I don't anymore and the mess is overwhelming.
I love playing tea party and dress up but then.... I want to stop and think grown up thoughts.

I know there's no fix, this is the life of a parent.
The life I chose and that I love and the life that sometimes makes me crazy, bored and claustrophobic in my own home.
Time to go nibble some toes and remind myself of exactly why I do this.

Me Talk Pretty.

The six year old has always been verbal.
It may be genetics - we Scots like to talk. We particularly like to cram as many multi-syllabled words into a sentence as possible then fire that sentence out at speed.

It may also be the hours I spent reading with her and stressing the pronunciation of each word. Her teachers have always commented on her diction and vocabulary.
So it was with some surprise that I was asked by her teacher to work on correcting her mispronunciation of words. Really?

I consider the six year old bi-lingual of sorts. She speaks both The Queen's and American English. I can be heard following her round the house saying;
"Water has a T not a D. It's WaTer not Wadder!"
What is it she says that is not correct?

I started to listen.

"Mum, member when we went to the park and I went down the big slide?"

Ok so it should be remember but how cute is that? I don't want to change that.

"Do you have a lot of laundry in your basket sweetie?"

"Prolly."

When has probably sounded so sweet?
We can't change that.

"Mum, what would happened if I put this in the bath?"
Ok so that's the wrong tense but she's still six and past and present tenses are hard.
We don't need to worry about that yet.

Our Navity houses Mary and Joeferd - I am NEVER correcting that.

She can say onomatopoeia and she knows what it means. Surely that cancels out the odd prolly or member?

With much sighing I realize - yet again - the problem is mine.
I want to keep the tiny snatches of childhood that linger, that still make her my little girl.

Am I trying to control the inevitable?
Prolly - but I am not ready to make it happened.

Carousel

I get notions. They tend to make the husband suddenly remember somewhere he has to be.
I had one of these great notions yesterday.

"Let's go into the city and take the kids to the carousel. Then we'll go somewhere fun for dinner. It'll be a great surprise."

The carousel is made by Charles Looff. It's very beautiful and historic.
It's set in some city gardens with an ice rink, bowling alley and park.

This particular city has parking issues. We drive around for ages.
We can pay $15 for a lot but I object - especially as we will only be an hour or two.
Finally we find street parking. We don't have enough quarters for the meter.

The kids are pretty excited now so we decide that the husband will head off to the carousel (still a secret) and I will get change and feed the meter.
Ha. This is when I realize I have become an old lady who doesn't venture downtown so much anymore.
No-one wants to give me change for the meter. I finally convince the municipal parking lot to. As I am walking back to feed the meter I get accosted by a man.
He has the most unusual of circumstances.
His car has been towed, he needs to get to some place where his wife is in hospital - he just needs $7 for the bus, He'll send me $20 back in return.
It would be compelling if I didn't know it to be the oldest scam in the book.

By now I am imagining that my kids will have already rode the carousel and my own car will have been towed.
I give him a few dollars so he'll go away.

I feed my meter and head for the carousel. I'm already thinking that it would have been easier just to go to the local park when I see the six year old standing outside the carousel. Face crumpled. Next to her is the husband looking irritated.
Oh dear. Not the golden moment I had pictured.

"What happened?"

The six year old informs me she is VERY disappointed. Carousels are for little kids and she thought we would be doing something much more fun.
I am not a fan of ingratitude. I am about to begin a long rant about the children in Haiti when I decide not to entertain her behavior. I tell her she can sit on the bench while we ride with the twenty month old.

Cue hysterics.
This is an emerging dilemma for our family. We have a five year age gap between our girls. What is fun for the baby may not be for the six year old and vice versa.
However the baby gets the short end of that stick. She is constantly doing things that are more suited to her sister.

I gamely try to ignore the tantrum and focus on the baby who is clambering up the leg of one of the carousel horses.
The six year old is now pleading to join in and making outrageous claims of contriteness.

I battle my own disappointment and frustration, plaster a smile on my face and we ride.
The baby does love it. She is shouting "Weeeeeeee!" and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. We ride again and then move onto the park.

Next we go for dinner. The husband and I gaze longingly into hip bars and restaurants where adults are drinking yummy looking cocktails and looking carefree.
We head to a child friendly place.

The six year continues to struggle. She is moody and rude.
Gloom settles over the table.
I run a mental tab of how much this great notion has cost and how the twenty month is the only one having a good time. Ironic - since she would have been just as happy digging in the back yard.

I have a feeling that my notions may not be entertained for the foreseeable future.

Pray For Joel.

I know many of you come here for levity but I have an opportunity that I can't pass by.

Joel is 7 years old. He has lymphoma.
This is his second time battling lymphoma in two years.
His family have been told they are coming to the end of treatment options.

I can't imagine.

I don't personally know Joel - I don't have to. I'm a mother.
He is the son of friends of friends of ours.

The family are asking for treatment options they may not have heard of and
I am asking for your prayers.

I feel very strongly that there is power in universal prayer.
For me, it doesn't matter who you pray to. It doesn't matter what words you use.
Please, just pray for Joel and his family.

You can get more information here:
http://www.zebray.com/joel/

I will send on any treatment suggestions you leave in my comments section.

Thank you.

Out Of The Mouths Of Babes.

"Mummy upstairs napping" was the baby's first sentence.
A three word sentence is a big deal when you're 19 months old.
I should be proud, and I am, but I can't help feeling maligned.

I was much more likely upstairs changing the bed linens, or putting away toys.
It's possible I was taking an overdue shower. Napping? Fat chance!

I've known for a long time that I need to watch what I say around the kids but now they are coming out with whoppers all by themselves.

I've mentioned before that the husband and I have had to tone down the color of our language (with varying success.) Now I realize we need to assume that everything we say can and WILL be repeated.

"Is that the lady you said was rude mom?"
Is not going to make me any friends at the park.

The six year old seems determined to get me in trouble.
We opened some gifts on Christmas Day that I thought were inappropriate for the girls.
I would say that what I said was:
"Let's exchange these for something else."

So when we were with the gift giver why did the six year old say,
"Mom, why did you think her gift was junky?"

Junky?? I DID NOT say junky - did I?

There's no way back from this. I did my best to bluff my way out of it by suggesting the six year old was confusing gifts.
We all know that particular person has us crossed of her Christmas list.

I might start carrying a big roll of duct tape in my bag.
That way next time she starts asking about the 'baby hole' in a restaurant I have a solution.

Now I just need to get the baby to say things that are good for my PR.

Woe Is Me.

Two things:

I have a mouth full of novocaine and feel very sorry for myself.
So I'm taking a sick day.

The six year old was the only kid in a two piece at the swim party.

I thought you might enjoy that piece of information since you couldn't see my face at the time.

See you tomorrow...

Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny.

I'm having a hard time with letting go of the baby inside my six (almost seven) year old.
She is at that turning point. She has started to notice the world outside of unicorns, gnomes and fairies.

After our New Year swim - she pointed out to me that she was the only girl in the pool in a swimsuit. All the other girls had bikinis. It's true - they did. Actually she had a cover up suit on - you know the kind that are SPF wear.
I am admittedly Victorian Mom about this. I would like to say it's because I think sunburned skin on a kid is a crime (it is) but really I just think a little girl in a bikini is too much.

I am aware that I a heavily outnumbered in this belief but as I am (constantly) telling the six year old - "Different families have different rules."
I am also aware that if you push something too far - you can create a monster.

This weekend she has a swim party.
She began the bikini campaign as soon as the invitation dropped into the mail box.

I am not easily swayed from my principles but I can see this has nothing
to do with being sexy for her. She just wants to fit in. Sigh.
The husband and I discuss it and decide it's time.

After school we head to the store. In my mind I'm still hoping she'll see a suit she loves and choose that. Yes - I can hear you scoffing but let a girl dream.

As soon as she sees the bikinis she is squealing with delight.

"Can I get one Mama pleeeeeze?"

I will admit that it did give me some joy to say yes.

I see trouble. She likes the ones with rhinestones that say 'Swim Babe' across the butt. Really.
We rule it out.
I veto the next five picks but she's so happy to be getting one, she doesn't care.

Then I have my little triumph. I spot a Tankini.
"How about this?" I say as casually as I can.
"I like it!" she says.

We pick out three tankinis and head to the fitting room.
Fifteen minutes and much parading later - we have our pick.
I feel really happy with the compromise and the six year old has a grin you could land a jetliner on.

I am heady with success until I spot the baby. She has pulled a bikini off the rack and has a death grip on it. oh dear.....

Chicken McNuggetry.

Trying to get your kids to eat nutritious foods in sustaining amounts is possibly the biggest struggle of parenting. I'm not a fan of struggle.
So I choose to opt out.

Instead of stressing about vegetable servings and family meals, I choose to feed the six year old food she would like and want to eat.
I indulged in chicken nuggets, fish sticks and mac'n'cheese.
I gave yogurts that taste fruity and yummy (have sugar.)
I offered fruit and vegetables but if they didn't taste good to the six year old - I didn't push them.
We ended up with a small repertoire but it did involve all the food groups and she ate heartily.
I did choose organic and drinks in this house are milk or water. We don't do fast food.
Well when I say we....

I also let her eat while listening to books on CD or even watching a DVD. Big no-no's as far as the parenting books are concerned. You won't find that chapter in MY book.
We don't do family meal during the week. I find it much easier to feed the kids and get them off to bed and then enjoy a meal with the husband.
I don't know about you but a meal with the kids usually means I eat cold food or don't even taste it because I had to eat so quickly.
Wait - am I actually doing something that makes my life better for me?

I listened to conversations at the park where more diligent moms were lamenting the fact that they cooked a delicious meal involving spinach and kale - only to find that their kid wouldn't eat one bite.
I also have friends who's kids will eat anything.

I have felt guilty but I just kept thinking that you pick your battles and I couldn't face this fight three times a day. My thinking was that she would grow out of her kid meal phase. Right?

My cousin (true story) ate nothing but Spam, yes I do mean Spam, for two whole years.
TWO YEARS. My poor Aunt took him to nutritionists and doctors but nothing dissuaded him.
One day he asked for something else and never looked back. Now he's a strapping 30 year old, healthy man. He has two kids. Secretly, I bet my Aunt is hoping his kids return the favor!

Yesterday I realized my Chicken McNuggetry© had payed off.
I looked in the freezer and found it packed with the old staples.
I hadn't even really noticed but the six year old is now eating chicken breast, fish, rice, lots of vegetables. Not just eating them - choosing them.
She just slid into it. When I offered a new food she tried it. No tears, no fuss.

I feel victorious. I have managed to teach healthy eating habits. I did it with frozen food.

Different Is Not Wrong.

That's the husbands mantra.
It came about when the six year old was a baby and I was constantly telling him how things were done.

You know - onsies are worn inside pants, babies don't eat muffins, diapers need to be changed every few hours not just once a day. That kind of thing.

He is right of course. Different is not wrong but it can be really annoying depending on your point of view.

Let me give you an example. As you may have picked up from my last post. I find New Year hard. So to avoid the annual melt down we booked to go away for a couple of nights, last minute.

We were going to go to the snow but eventually decided on the beach. It turned out to be an excellent decision. We only went two hours from home so we were still in Northern California.
The weather was incredible. Warm and sunny. We had booked a beach side hotel with pool and hot tub. I didn't even imagine the pool would be open at this time of year. It was open and heated to bath tub temperature. Yummy.

We swam, on the 1st and 2nd of January in a pool with the sound of the ocean crashing on the beach filling our ears. It was warm enough to sit on the loungers and snack. It was glorious.

The baby naps so the husband and I took turn about taking the six year old to the pool during this time. I went first. The six year old and I swam, dived for rings, danced, played Turtle, Humpty and synchronized swimming for three hours. We took short breaks to dip in the hot tub and snack.

Day two it was my turn to stay with the baby. I watched from the balcony as the six year old and the husband jumped into the pool giggling.

I tidied up the hotel room. Made snack. Changed a diaper. Once the baby was asleep I decided to sit on the balcony and read. There in the pool was the six year old playing with new friends. There on a lounger was the husband listening to his ipod.

He was facing the pool, watching the six year old diligently.
Hmmm. I look around. It's pretty quiet but there are two moms in the pool with kids and two Dads on the sidelines. One reading, one on his cell.

I watched the scene on and off for an hour. All Dad's did check in with the kids. They also all played in the pool with the kids for periods. Then they got out and relaxed for a while.

I did not see the Moms relaxing.
Of course there are a few ways to look at this. The Dad's could be described as smarter, lazier, selfish or balanced.
The Mom's could be described as STUPID.

Why can't we switch off? Why can't we relax around the kids? Why do we fear 'the judgement' of others if we are not super mom 24/7?
I know that had I sat on a lounger reading while my six year old was in the pool I would have felt irresponsible and lazy.
I wouldn't have been irresponsible because the six year old can swim, was two feet away and there were other adults in the pool.
I wouldn't have been lazy because I never sit my ass down for more than five minutes on any given day.
Even right now, although I'm sitting here typing, I have jumped up to load laundry, and do some meal prep.

I need to take a leaf out of the husbands book.
I need to stop making decisions based on 'the judgement' (real or imagined) I feel from others.
I think I may have just made a New Year resolution.
I'll let you know how I get on.