Sometimes you have doubts about some of the activities and stuff that you sign your kids up for. Sometimes you wonder if it's worth it to pay $18 a class for a gym class or if it's worth it to drive all the way to Burbank for swim lessons. Sometimes the answer is no. It's not worth it. But sometimes you have to try and take a chance. Sometimes there are real successes. This morning, Zachary did his second day at "Gym Camp" at our local MyGym, where he has been taking classes since before he was 18 months old. He LOVES MyGym. He loves to run around and climb and go on the trampoline and bars, ride on "Space Flight" and play in the ball pit. And he loves his instructors, too. He listens to them, follows their direction and has fun with them. Today was one instructor's last day. Chrystal is moving to another gym. Zachary is so sad to say goodbye to her. All morning he talked about how he wanted to see her and when he did, he gave her a huge hug. She picked him up and he rested his head on her shoulder for what seemed like a century. When we left he told her, "I'm going to miss you when I go camping!" (It is all about him still, after all.) And then he told me, "I'm going to miss Chrystal because I love her."
You never know what will work for what kid. You don't know who will make a connection with your kid, who will bring out the best in him or her. But when it happens, it feels really good. It feels wonderful to know that your kid loves somebody and that somebody loves them back. Parents can't do everything for their kids. It takes a whole team. How lucky I am that we have had such a great team.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Anticipation
School starts on Monday. My big girl will start first grade. Annalise has been anxiously preparing. Tuesday we dropped Zachary off at MyGym camp for a morning so the girls could do some back to school shopping. We bought two new pairs of shoes. And then she tried on about 30 outfits at GapKids until she narrowed it down to her favorite two. We also picked up her school supplies from school. She carefully examined each item and labelled them with stickers reading "This belongs to Annalise E." (This, of course, to separate her from all the other Annalises in her class. You know there are so many.) This morning we dropped Zachary off again and we went out to breakfast, just the girls. We had fun "writing" our own version of "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" -- "If You Take a Baby to a Restaurant." We rolled with laughter with each different senario. Then we went home and together decorated her pencil box.
I remember so much the anticipation of school starting. Like Annalise has been doing all day, I remember running down to the mailbox twenty times on the day the letters would arrive, telling us who our teacher would be. I, too, called my friends to see if they were in the same class. Every time the phone rings she jumps up to see if it is a room 9 friend. I admit, there are friends who I hope are in her class. I am pleased with her teacher and look forward to a challenging year where she will learn and grow in a loving environment. I think her teacher's soft voice and demeanor will balance nicely with all the noise (and okay, often loud voices) she hears at home. I look forward to p.e. classes, science and art, music and lots of reading and writing.
Monday she will put on her pink (Did you really think it would be any other color for the first day?) butterfly dress and polka dot leggings. She'll tighten the velcro on those pink glittery Geox shoes. (She's graduated from Lelly Kellies apparently.) We'll brush her newly cut hair and put in a sparkly headband. We'll pack up her new pink and green lunchbox with reusable, non-toxic containers filled with healthy, tasty treats to get her through the day. And she'll throw on her old blue butterfly backpack and we'll head down the hill. She'll have her own spot in room 9 next to a boy who picks his nose and whose shoes are untied, but whose hair is pefectly coifed for the first day. She'll play for the first time on the upper playground with her friends at recess. She'll be a little scared and a little excited, but she'll make it through her first day of first grade. She'll come home a little dirty and a lot tired. And we will all look forward to day two.
I remember so much the anticipation of school starting. Like Annalise has been doing all day, I remember running down to the mailbox twenty times on the day the letters would arrive, telling us who our teacher would be. I, too, called my friends to see if they were in the same class. Every time the phone rings she jumps up to see if it is a room 9 friend. I admit, there are friends who I hope are in her class. I am pleased with her teacher and look forward to a challenging year where she will learn and grow in a loving environment. I think her teacher's soft voice and demeanor will balance nicely with all the noise (and okay, often loud voices) she hears at home. I look forward to p.e. classes, science and art, music and lots of reading and writing.
Monday she will put on her pink (Did you really think it would be any other color for the first day?) butterfly dress and polka dot leggings. She'll tighten the velcro on those pink glittery Geox shoes. (She's graduated from Lelly Kellies apparently.) We'll brush her newly cut hair and put in a sparkly headband. We'll pack up her new pink and green lunchbox with reusable, non-toxic containers filled with healthy, tasty treats to get her through the day. And she'll throw on her old blue butterfly backpack and we'll head down the hill. She'll have her own spot in room 9 next to a boy who picks his nose and whose shoes are untied, but whose hair is pefectly coifed for the first day. She'll play for the first time on the upper playground with her friends at recess. She'll be a little scared and a little excited, but she'll make it through her first day of first grade. She'll come home a little dirty and a lot tired. And we will all look forward to day two.
Fires
For the past 24 hours, airplanes and helicopters have been buzzing over our house. Ash is covering our cars, rooves and plants. Smoke fills the air, fills our lungs. My friend and her family have had to evacuate their mountain home. We live in the foothills of a national forest. In Southern California, with our heat and low humidity often coupled with Santa Ana winds, this means that we are often on fire alert. Sure enough, yesterday, with temperatures reaching the triple digits, a fire broke out in our beloved mountains. As of right now, no homes are threatened (even my friend's) and the fire is relatively small. But a gust of wind can change everything in a second. In 1990, our next-door neighbors' lives changed in a second when an ember from a fire blocks away landed on their wood roof, catching their house on fire. Fortunately my mom and another neighbor saw what was happening in time to call the fire department (who saved much of the home) and to save the family's pet schnauzer. I came home to fire trucks and news vans. It changed my view of tragedy forever.
Growing up in this town, fires were very much a part of our reality. (It turns out that all of the above fire hazards were made far worse as the fire chief of a nearby town was also an arsonist.) Fires happened often. When the Santa Ana winds picked up, the town breathed in deep, holding our collective breath until the winds and heat died down. And yet, for some reason, I still love the wind. I love the feel of it against my face, how my hair whips around and the sound of the trees rustling. This seems so irrational to me, given where and when I grew up, until my friend Cindy explained it to me not so long ago.
When I was about eight, we had a particularly bad fire. It burned for days. Schools were cancelled. The power was off. Ashes covered the outsides and insides of our houses. I remember waking up in the middle of the night and hearing the soft voices of my parents talking. I got up, and can still feel and see the gray air in the house, the ashes falling even inside. I walked into the hallway and all our family pictures were down. My parents were pulling out important documents from their filing cabinet. Our car was packed, ready to evacuate. I had never been so scared in all my life. I remember asking my mom if we had to evacuate, would we go to the Denson's house? (They lived across the street.) I really didn't understand the scope of the problem. In fact, at that point, every street north of ours had already been evacuated, and the plan was to make a firestop at Foothill Boulevard, several blocks south of ours. Half the town would be lost. And then, for some unknown reason, the winds changed. Not only did we not have to be evacuated, but most of the town was spared. Less than thirty homes were lost to that fire. As devastating as it was to those families, it was far less horrible than we all thought it would be.
I don't remember if it was that night or the next or even the one prior. But one of those nights, with the power off, my dad somehow plugged our portable television into our car. We adjusted the rabbit ears and the whole neighborhood gathered around to watch our little town, engulfed in flames, on the national news. Somehow there was safety in this gathering. There was community. There was the knowledge that we would all get through this together. Amidst our fear, we were able to talk and laugh and tell stories. It was comforting. My friend Cindy suspects that I love the wind because I so much love the sense of community. It's true that communities really do come together in times of need. Our little street certainly did again and again as fires affected us all. But I'm glad that I live in a community where we come together in times of joy as well. Our street hasn't had a block party since we moved in. Perhaps it's time we do. These fires remind us how precious it all is. Let's celebrate.
In the meantime, I will keep my bags packed, ready to load my little family into the car and head out to safety just in case. I will watch the news, listen to the airplanes and pray for the firefighters. And I'll hold my breath that the wind will stay away.
Growing up in this town, fires were very much a part of our reality. (It turns out that all of the above fire hazards were made far worse as the fire chief of a nearby town was also an arsonist.) Fires happened often. When the Santa Ana winds picked up, the town breathed in deep, holding our collective breath until the winds and heat died down. And yet, for some reason, I still love the wind. I love the feel of it against my face, how my hair whips around and the sound of the trees rustling. This seems so irrational to me, given where and when I grew up, until my friend Cindy explained it to me not so long ago.
When I was about eight, we had a particularly bad fire. It burned for days. Schools were cancelled. The power was off. Ashes covered the outsides and insides of our houses. I remember waking up in the middle of the night and hearing the soft voices of my parents talking. I got up, and can still feel and see the gray air in the house, the ashes falling even inside. I walked into the hallway and all our family pictures were down. My parents were pulling out important documents from their filing cabinet. Our car was packed, ready to evacuate. I had never been so scared in all my life. I remember asking my mom if we had to evacuate, would we go to the Denson's house? (They lived across the street.) I really didn't understand the scope of the problem. In fact, at that point, every street north of ours had already been evacuated, and the plan was to make a firestop at Foothill Boulevard, several blocks south of ours. Half the town would be lost. And then, for some unknown reason, the winds changed. Not only did we not have to be evacuated, but most of the town was spared. Less than thirty homes were lost to that fire. As devastating as it was to those families, it was far less horrible than we all thought it would be.
I don't remember if it was that night or the next or even the one prior. But one of those nights, with the power off, my dad somehow plugged our portable television into our car. We adjusted the rabbit ears and the whole neighborhood gathered around to watch our little town, engulfed in flames, on the national news. Somehow there was safety in this gathering. There was community. There was the knowledge that we would all get through this together. Amidst our fear, we were able to talk and laugh and tell stories. It was comforting. My friend Cindy suspects that I love the wind because I so much love the sense of community. It's true that communities really do come together in times of need. Our little street certainly did again and again as fires affected us all. But I'm glad that I live in a community where we come together in times of joy as well. Our street hasn't had a block party since we moved in. Perhaps it's time we do. These fires remind us how precious it all is. Let's celebrate.
In the meantime, I will keep my bags packed, ready to load my little family into the car and head out to safety just in case. I will watch the news, listen to the airplanes and pray for the firefighters. And I'll hold my breath that the wind will stay away.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Carpet Stalkers
I think I have a stalker. Someone is peering in my windows when I am unaware of it. I must get three calls a day from someone (different someones, too!) who wants to clean my carpets. How do they know my carpets are stained and gross? How do they know that I have a seven month old who crawls and rolls all over that carpet? Do they watch my kids paint and play in the mud and then come inside to use the bathroom, dragging in God only knows what on their feet? Have they noticed that Zachary doesn't always make it to said bathroom? Have they watched Annalise eating cornbread/tacos/spaghetti? (Yes, there is even carpet under the dining room table.) Do they watch Juliette spit up all day long? Has someone filled them in? Maybe my mother and mother-in-law have joined forces with the carpet cleaning people to conspire to get me to clean. Maybe they think that if I get at least three calls a day, it will somehow subliminally give me the message that I am a slob. For the carpet stalkers out there, I am aware that my carpets are filthy. I am aware that Juliette's clothes would be cleaner if my carpets were cleaner, too. I promise when she stops spitting up I will spring for a carpet cleaning. I promise. And when I win the big bucks... hard wood floors, baby!
"The Most Wonderful Time of the Year"
Do you remember that song from the Staples ad? It's really a Christmas song, but in the ad, they are playing that song as the dad is gleefully throwing pencils and other school supplies into the cart, gliding through the store, as the kids sulk behind him. I never really got that ad. As a kid, I certainly didn't look forward to the first day of school. As a teacher, I REALLY didn't look forward to the first day of school. And as a parent, I don't think I really ever have either. (Maybe I've just forgotten???) In the beginning of August, I was so sad that school was less than a month away. We have had such a great summer. The kids were playing great together! They were thriving on the lack of schedule! We were seeing friends! We were going swimming! We were being creative! We were using our imaginations! We were playing outside and in! We were going on field trips! I could see why people would homeschool! (Seriously, this thought actually entered my mind. Our summer was that good. I must have been smoking some major summer crack.)
And then mid-August came around. I don't know what happened. Nothing has changed. We are still seeing friends, going swimming, using our imaginations, etc. etc. But there is a mini revolt going on in our house right now. Attitudes are changing. Noise levels are changing. Tempers are changing. "It's not fairs!" and "She did it on purposes!" have increased tenfold. I don't know the scientific term for what's going on, but I think it can only be described as we are getting sick of each other. There is a reason for school. There is a reason summer is only so long. (Incidentally, it is the same reason why babies are so cute and have that whole baby smell thing going on.) Otherwise, someone would have to die. I'm not saying who. I'm just saying that families would kill each other when they have too much togetherness. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids and they genuinely love one another. But they're bored of each other. They're bored of me. It's time to go back to school. I know I will miss them while they are there. I know I will have a HUGE adjustment to Annalise being gone ALL DAY!! But I know it's best for them and it's best for me. School starts in a week and a half. I'm ready. Let's go buy some school supplies.
And then mid-August came around. I don't know what happened. Nothing has changed. We are still seeing friends, going swimming, using our imaginations, etc. etc. But there is a mini revolt going on in our house right now. Attitudes are changing. Noise levels are changing. Tempers are changing. "It's not fairs!" and "She did it on purposes!" have increased tenfold. I don't know the scientific term for what's going on, but I think it can only be described as we are getting sick of each other. There is a reason for school. There is a reason summer is only so long. (Incidentally, it is the same reason why babies are so cute and have that whole baby smell thing going on.) Otherwise, someone would have to die. I'm not saying who. I'm just saying that families would kill each other when they have too much togetherness. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids and they genuinely love one another. But they're bored of each other. They're bored of me. It's time to go back to school. I know I will miss them while they are there. I know I will have a HUGE adjustment to Annalise being gone ALL DAY!! But I know it's best for them and it's best for me. School starts in a week and a half. I'm ready. Let's go buy some school supplies.
On My Soapbox
We started out today by getting the treats prepared again for the Skidettes. This was our third time and the kids are definitely getting the hang of it. I think Zachary's issue is mostly that he can't mulit-task. And since he pretty much talks non-stop, it is difficult for him to count and bag cookies at the same time. Regardless, I think the kids are getting something out of it. Last week we even got to see the home for battered women and children where we donate our used clothing and toys. It was great for my kids to see that real kids are benefitting from their stuff. As we went through Annalise's clothes last week, I noticed that she was much more willing to part with things than in the past. Hopefully it will be eye-opening to her that others are in much more of a need than she is. Maybe she'll learn that the t-shirt she wears once every couple of months would be more useful to a kid who would wear it every week. (By the way, for those of you in the LA area, this shelter is always in desperate need of children's clothing. So if you have any gently used clothing, toys, nursery items, etc. to give away, please bring it to my house and I'll arrange to have it delivered. These families arrive often with literally just the clothing on their backs. They are in need of everything. For those of you not in the LA area, there is a great need for donations at all shelters, especially in these tough times.)
When we took the train down to Olvera Street a few weeks ago, something caught my eye as we passed through Chinatown. We saw the offices for Homeboy Industries. Homeboy Industries was founded by Father Greg Boyle about twenty years ago as a means to get kids out of gangs by doing something as simple as giving them jobs. They started out small and have expanded greatly to include a bakery, silkscreening, a cafe and other small businesses. All the employees are people who are trying to find a life outside of gangs. Our church has been selling their bread and using their services for years, but I had never seen their headquarters. So today my mom and the kids and I took the train to the Homegirl Cafe. It is a small restaurant, but it was completely packed. I suspect that most people come to have lunch there while at a break from the courthouse or other nearby businesses. The food is healthy, delicious and really inexpensive. Much of their produce is grown organically in the Homegirl garden. The kids wolfed down their chicken tacos and then picked apart my mom's salad, eating green peppers, zucchini, jicama, mango and more. I was too busy eating my salmon taco and carnitas and apple taco (SO good!) to share. We also HAD to take home some cookies and brownies for later. While I was wandering with Juliette in the Bjorn after I was finished (and so was she!), I noticed a sign that said that their headquarters would be closed on Friday because of a furlow day. Apparently their funds are really low right now. Check out their website at : www.homeboy-industries.org. (Wow! That just turned purple on me. How cool is that!?) They are having a virtual carwash right now to raise funds. And the next time you take the train from Pasadena into Union Station, take a quick detour in Chinatown (You'll see it from the platform.) to have a delicious, helathy meal or grab a tasty treat. You'll be helping out a great group of people.
When we took the train down to Olvera Street a few weeks ago, something caught my eye as we passed through Chinatown. We saw the offices for Homeboy Industries. Homeboy Industries was founded by Father Greg Boyle about twenty years ago as a means to get kids out of gangs by doing something as simple as giving them jobs. They started out small and have expanded greatly to include a bakery, silkscreening, a cafe and other small businesses. All the employees are people who are trying to find a life outside of gangs. Our church has been selling their bread and using their services for years, but I had never seen their headquarters. So today my mom and the kids and I took the train to the Homegirl Cafe. It is a small restaurant, but it was completely packed. I suspect that most people come to have lunch there while at a break from the courthouse or other nearby businesses. The food is healthy, delicious and really inexpensive. Much of their produce is grown organically in the Homegirl garden. The kids wolfed down their chicken tacos and then picked apart my mom's salad, eating green peppers, zucchini, jicama, mango and more. I was too busy eating my salmon taco and carnitas and apple taco (SO good!) to share. We also HAD to take home some cookies and brownies for later. While I was wandering with Juliette in the Bjorn after I was finished (and so was she!), I noticed a sign that said that their headquarters would be closed on Friday because of a furlow day. Apparently their funds are really low right now. Check out their website at : www.homeboy-industries.org. (Wow! That just turned purple on me. How cool is that!?) They are having a virtual carwash right now to raise funds. And the next time you take the train from Pasadena into Union Station, take a quick detour in Chinatown (You'll see it from the platform.) to have a delicious, helathy meal or grab a tasty treat. You'll be helping out a great group of people.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Beach Day, With a Little Help from the Village
It takes a village to raise a child. It also takes a village to support a mom through a tough time or to help her take three small children to the beach! Some days I feel a little guilty because I have my mom so close by. She is able to help me often. Today she came along with me so I could run some errands. It was so much faster to go to the vacuum repair shop, the post office and the dry cleaner without having to haul three kids out of the car. Plus, I had someone to talk to who didn't want to run down plot lines of various movies or books with me. (Today it was ET and Grandma got to enjoy that while I ran in to do my errands.) Sometimes I feel like I wouldn't be able to do it without her and wonder how she did it without the help of her family. I have resolved to stop feeling guilty about it, however, accept her help, and also accept that she and my children are also benefitting from the arrangement. I would have loved to have had my grandparents less than a mile away. How lucky my kids are that they get to have her so close.
Another person I am lucky to have in my life is my Aunt Nancy. Nancy is one of my mom's younger sisters, and also my godmother. She has always been special and important to me throughout my life. But in the past several years, she has become even more important. Five years ago, we moved my grandfather to an assisted living facility. Four and a half years ago, we moved him to a nursing home. A few months ago, my beloved grandpa finally past away. But in the meantime, we have had quite an adventure. Mostly my mom and Nancy were in charge of Grandpa's affairs, visiting him, etc. Their other two siblings live far away and weren't involved as much, so I became the number three guy. The kids and I went ususally at least once a week to visit him. And when my mom was out of town, Nancy and I would have the daily talk about Grandpa's status. And for a while, Nancy would stay at our house when she went to see Gramps. (She lives two hours away, and works one hour away.) The whole situation brought the two sisters closer together, but I felt closer to them both as well.
While I was pregnant with Juliette, I had some real ups and downs. It was a tough year for all sorts of reasons that I won't really go into here. Let's just say that some people in my life were not being very supportive. It caused me a lot of stress and worry. And then one day when I was twenty some odd weeks pregnant, with both Jason and my parents out of town, I fell. It wasn't a real bad fall, though my butt would probably disagree, but it did cause some spotting. I was upset and alone and didn't really know what to do. And out of nowhere, Aunt Nancy called. I told her what was going on. She said she was a little worried, she was about to go into a meeting and to call her back in an hour. I sat down at my kitchen table to tutor, and an hour later I looked up, and there was Nancy. She had dropped everything to come and take care of me. Jason was able to get on an earlier flight, and he was able to take care of the kids so that Nancy could take me to Labor and Delivery. Obviously everything was fine, but it was a scary situation. But in that moment of looking up and seeing her car out in front of my house, I instantly was transformed. Since then I have been able to mostly let go of the other not so good situation and realize how much I am loved. Now I realize that I have so many people who love me, who love my family, who support our decisions and who genuinely want to love and take care of our children. How blessed I am! I had been so busy dwelling on the negative, I couldn't see the love that had been right in front of me all along.
So last Wednesday, my mom and I decided that we had to get to the beach. (Yes, I said HAD. It's a real need. I swear.) We met Nancy and her best friend Dee Dee down at Dana Point. We went to a perfect little mothers' beach, with lots of soft sand and no waves. The kids had a blast swimming in the water, splashing, playing "lifeguard" and digging. Between the four of us, we were easily able to handle the three kids, taking turns sitting in the water, holding the baby and handing out sandwiches. It was perfect. I wouldn't have been able to take the kids by myself , but even if I could have, I wouldn't have wanted to. I had my two favorite "moms" with me and I feel thankful for it and not at all guilty.
Another person I am lucky to have in my life is my Aunt Nancy. Nancy is one of my mom's younger sisters, and also my godmother. She has always been special and important to me throughout my life. But in the past several years, she has become even more important. Five years ago, we moved my grandfather to an assisted living facility. Four and a half years ago, we moved him to a nursing home. A few months ago, my beloved grandpa finally past away. But in the meantime, we have had quite an adventure. Mostly my mom and Nancy were in charge of Grandpa's affairs, visiting him, etc. Their other two siblings live far away and weren't involved as much, so I became the number three guy. The kids and I went ususally at least once a week to visit him. And when my mom was out of town, Nancy and I would have the daily talk about Grandpa's status. And for a while, Nancy would stay at our house when she went to see Gramps. (She lives two hours away, and works one hour away.) The whole situation brought the two sisters closer together, but I felt closer to them both as well.
While I was pregnant with Juliette, I had some real ups and downs. It was a tough year for all sorts of reasons that I won't really go into here. Let's just say that some people in my life were not being very supportive. It caused me a lot of stress and worry. And then one day when I was twenty some odd weeks pregnant, with both Jason and my parents out of town, I fell. It wasn't a real bad fall, though my butt would probably disagree, but it did cause some spotting. I was upset and alone and didn't really know what to do. And out of nowhere, Aunt Nancy called. I told her what was going on. She said she was a little worried, she was about to go into a meeting and to call her back in an hour. I sat down at my kitchen table to tutor, and an hour later I looked up, and there was Nancy. She had dropped everything to come and take care of me. Jason was able to get on an earlier flight, and he was able to take care of the kids so that Nancy could take me to Labor and Delivery. Obviously everything was fine, but it was a scary situation. But in that moment of looking up and seeing her car out in front of my house, I instantly was transformed. Since then I have been able to mostly let go of the other not so good situation and realize how much I am loved. Now I realize that I have so many people who love me, who love my family, who support our decisions and who genuinely want to love and take care of our children. How blessed I am! I had been so busy dwelling on the negative, I couldn't see the love that had been right in front of me all along.
So last Wednesday, my mom and I decided that we had to get to the beach. (Yes, I said HAD. It's a real need. I swear.) We met Nancy and her best friend Dee Dee down at Dana Point. We went to a perfect little mothers' beach, with lots of soft sand and no waves. The kids had a blast swimming in the water, splashing, playing "lifeguard" and digging. Between the four of us, we were easily able to handle the three kids, taking turns sitting in the water, holding the baby and handing out sandwiches. It was perfect. I wouldn't have been able to take the kids by myself , but even if I could have, I wouldn't have wanted to. I had my two favorite "moms" with me and I feel thankful for it and not at all guilty.
So good! So good! So good!
Summer Sundays in La Canada mean music in the park. It's one of my favorite things about living in a small town. Half the town turns out, brings a picnic dinner. The kids run around and dance, do cartwheels and play on the playground. There are tons of dogs, but hardly any barking. It's really quite lovely. Last night featured "Hot August Nights," a Neil Diamond tribute band. We arrived before the band even started and already the park was packed. (Apparently "Neil" brought in the biggest crowd of the summer.) Neil's biggest fan was upfront dancing her little heart out in gray sweats from the first chord. At a certain point, a huge crowd formed in front of the stage (read gazebo). It was a mosh pit La Canada style: Neil Diamond music, a glass of wine in one hand, a child on the other hip and, as my friend Debbie added, a Coach bag back on the blanket. But, as the Evans family joined in for "Sweet Caroline," we had, "the most fun EVER!" as Annalise exclaimed. We even had our own little circle going with Debbie's family for screaming, "So good! So good! So good!" It was a lot of fist-pumping, hip-shaking good times. We may have shot Juliette's hearing, but wow did that kid have fun! It was a great reminder that life really is "So good!"
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Too Fast
I don't mean to harp on the fact that Juliette is getting older, but it really is starting to get to me. A few days ago she started her first "solid" foods. Both Annalise and Zachary hated the rice cereal, hated to be fed on a spoon. I think part of me kind of liked that, liked that they still had to really depend just on me for food. Even though I am envious of my friends whose babies will take a bottle and are able to leave them for more than 20 minutes, I know that part of me still really likes being the one and only. So I think I was secretly hoping that Juliette would spit out her rice cereal and turn her back on that spoon. But she didn't. She opened her mouth and shoved that spoon right in herself! (Adorable, too!) Check off one more milestone.
Then Jason moved the holy Tivo box into the cabinet. (It was resting on a speaker and we thought it was causing some interference. It turns out HGTV just does that for some reason.) So now we have to leave the cabinet open to work the TV. Not a problem for a while, right? No, the very same day the kid crawls across the room to mess with the stereo! What is it with kids and electronics? And then, after being redirected, she headed straight for the fireplace tools! What is it with kids and sharp, heavy objects? Check off another milestone. (The milestone being first attempt to cause bodily harm... Oh! I didn't even mention pulling over the floorlamp. Wow. We really need to babyproof.)
And now it has become obvious that we need to move the poor child into a bed suitable for a baby who can sit herself up, pull up on the sides of things and reach out of her little tiny bassinette. She also stretches from end to end. It's time, I know. But this will, in all likelihood, be the last time we have a bassinette in our bedroom. This will be the last time we construct the crib, the last time I will hear every sigh and whimper during the night. It might also mean I'll sleep better (did I mention it's 1:45?), but I'm sad all the same. Already I have to deal with Annalise going to school full day in less than a month and Zachary finishing parent ed and now being gone three mornings a week. It all goes by too fast. Too fast. At least Juliette still has no teeth (an Evans record by a mile) and very little hair. I know there are many more milestones to check off. And maybe I'll be one of those moms who can't wait for her kids to get their drivers' license. You never know.
Then Jason moved the holy Tivo box into the cabinet. (It was resting on a speaker and we thought it was causing some interference. It turns out HGTV just does that for some reason.) So now we have to leave the cabinet open to work the TV. Not a problem for a while, right? No, the very same day the kid crawls across the room to mess with the stereo! What is it with kids and electronics? And then, after being redirected, she headed straight for the fireplace tools! What is it with kids and sharp, heavy objects? Check off another milestone. (The milestone being first attempt to cause bodily harm... Oh! I didn't even mention pulling over the floorlamp. Wow. We really need to babyproof.)
And now it has become obvious that we need to move the poor child into a bed suitable for a baby who can sit herself up, pull up on the sides of things and reach out of her little tiny bassinette. She also stretches from end to end. It's time, I know. But this will, in all likelihood, be the last time we have a bassinette in our bedroom. This will be the last time we construct the crib, the last time I will hear every sigh and whimper during the night. It might also mean I'll sleep better (did I mention it's 1:45?), but I'm sad all the same. Already I have to deal with Annalise going to school full day in less than a month and Zachary finishing parent ed and now being gone three mornings a week. It all goes by too fast. Too fast. At least Juliette still has no teeth (an Evans record by a mile) and very little hair. I know there are many more milestones to check off. And maybe I'll be one of those moms who can't wait for her kids to get their drivers' license. You never know.
Rewards
For some reason, our family is just not that good with the whole allowance thing. Our family wasn't when I was a kid, and that tradition has somehow continued with my family. Somehow we can never remember to hand out the money, count the stickers, whatever it is, or we just don't have $2.80 hanging around. I might have a twenty and some pennies, but exact change, not so much. We tried it for a while. (The kids each even have three piggy banks -- one for spending, one for saving and one for charity. It all started out with great intentions, but never really caught on.)
Our solution came as a suggestion during one of our parent ed classes. Someone was talking about marbles in a jar. Duh! I used to do that with my table groups when I was teaching. Each table group would get marbles for awards for various things. When all the marbles were gone, we would count up the marbles and the group with the most marbles would get a reward. The reward was always to eat lunch in the classroom with me and play games afterwards. (Sounds silly, but for second graders, this is a real treat!) And it is so easy! Someone else reminded us all that marbles and babies are not such good friends, and so poker chips have become the new marbles.
We started this with our family a couple months ago. Before we fill our jar, we vote as a family as to what we want our reward to be. (We devised a long list together before getting started. The list contains all sorts of things from going bowling to a trip to Hawaii -- thank God Mommy and Daddy get a vote and are smart enough to vote together!) Then the kids get poker chips for any job that they do, sometimes for especially great behavior or for something we are working on. For example, Zachary gets a poker chip every day he doesn't wet his pants. He gets an extra one for making it through a play date (so exciting! no time to pee!) without wetting his pants. The poker chips go into one jar, so working together counts extra. Annalise will get a poker chip for watering the plants, but if Zachary helps, then they both get to put one in. I really like the system because it encourages them to cooperate and work together. They also are quick to point out when the other deserves some praise, and applaud each others' accomplishments. It has been expecially helpful to me when Jason is out of town. The evenings can be tricky with trying to get all three of them down, reading books, taking out the trash, etc. They help me out a TON and I am more than happy to reward them. The rewards are simple, and honestly are things we would do anyway (that is until the kids get Juliette voting and really campaign for that trip to Hawaii). But I think these adventures have so much more meaning since they earned them. After each trip, we have thanked the kids for earning the trip that we got to enjoy as well. So far we have gone to La Brea Tarpits, out to ice cream and Sunday we took the Metro to Olvera Street. Really simple pleasures, but each night before bed, Zachary wants us to tell him about La Brea Tarpits. That's a great reward for us, too.
Our solution came as a suggestion during one of our parent ed classes. Someone was talking about marbles in a jar. Duh! I used to do that with my table groups when I was teaching. Each table group would get marbles for awards for various things. When all the marbles were gone, we would count up the marbles and the group with the most marbles would get a reward. The reward was always to eat lunch in the classroom with me and play games afterwards. (Sounds silly, but for second graders, this is a real treat!) And it is so easy! Someone else reminded us all that marbles and babies are not such good friends, and so poker chips have become the new marbles.
We started this with our family a couple months ago. Before we fill our jar, we vote as a family as to what we want our reward to be. (We devised a long list together before getting started. The list contains all sorts of things from going bowling to a trip to Hawaii -- thank God Mommy and Daddy get a vote and are smart enough to vote together!) Then the kids get poker chips for any job that they do, sometimes for especially great behavior or for something we are working on. For example, Zachary gets a poker chip every day he doesn't wet his pants. He gets an extra one for making it through a play date (so exciting! no time to pee!) without wetting his pants. The poker chips go into one jar, so working together counts extra. Annalise will get a poker chip for watering the plants, but if Zachary helps, then they both get to put one in. I really like the system because it encourages them to cooperate and work together. They also are quick to point out when the other deserves some praise, and applaud each others' accomplishments. It has been expecially helpful to me when Jason is out of town. The evenings can be tricky with trying to get all three of them down, reading books, taking out the trash, etc. They help me out a TON and I am more than happy to reward them. The rewards are simple, and honestly are things we would do anyway (that is until the kids get Juliette voting and really campaign for that trip to Hawaii). But I think these adventures have so much more meaning since they earned them. After each trip, we have thanked the kids for earning the trip that we got to enjoy as well. So far we have gone to La Brea Tarpits, out to ice cream and Sunday we took the Metro to Olvera Street. Really simple pleasures, but each night before bed, Zachary wants us to tell him about La Brea Tarpits. That's a great reward for us, too.
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