temporary

I've been reading a lot of design blogs lately. Blogs that tell me how to make my home beautiful. And I look at those photos and the first thing I think is: Those people don't have kids.

If they had kids, I would be able to tell right away. There would be a train track permanently set up by their dining room table, and no matter how many times they tried to put it 'away' within hours, or sometimes minutes, it would reappear in it's proper location: by the dining room table. The track would virtually function as an extremely uncomfortable area rug.

And on the nightstand, next to the bed, instead of the fancy hardcover books they might be reading, there would be a jar of jam. And the books? Well...those are in the fridge. At least, that's what happens to me.

There would be pencil marks on the couch and vagabond toys under the furniture. All the things of value would be awkwardly placed on high shelves...even though that might not look quite right. It would be more about protecting the goods than achieving good style.

So the other day, while looking at one design blog and drooling over someone else's space and stuff (envy, I believe it's called), it occurred to me: maybe they do have kids. Maybe those kids grew up. Or are grown up enough to know that jam goes in the fridge and books on the nightstand. I was reminded again how quickly it all goes by and how this phase of our lives is temporary. Sooooo temporary.

I feel a consistent pull between "don't grow up!" and "would you grow up already!" and that realization, that reminder about how life with little ones is fleeting, helped me lean a little more towards the "don't grow up!" side of things. So here's to enjoying the moment, I guess.



Oh My Goodness Blueberry Coffee Cake. found here.

you win some, you lose some

Yesterday's high: 100
Today's expected high: 88
humidity level: gross

Yesterday started out fantastically. Well, there was a small hiccup when I did my early wake up and found Andrew sitting on the couch ready for a new day. At 6 am. Sad to say, but my heart sank the littlest bit. I've been loving my time alone first thing every morning and I knew that a wakeful little boy was going to need breakfasts and cups of juice and someone to look at the blocks he's building and listen to things he has to say. Which, first thing in the morning, is strangely hard.

But, no matter! I can get over the small hiccup! I plow ahead through my Early Morning To Do list while making breakfast, getting cups of juice, looking at block towers and listening to the little things my little boy has say. Success.

Another small hiccup when Andrew gives me trouble about getting his teeth brushed and Isaac has to be wrestled into the stroller to get Andrew to school on time, but nothing a few deep breaths can't fix.

After dropping off Andrew, I felt fantastic. I was doing it! Sort of. I was trying my darndest! I was working so hard! I was going to knock this day outta the park!

And I did. I used my strategies. Park early, easy meals, I even had my hair braided back out of my face. But sometime around 4, I could feel the crash coming. I started snapping at both kids for minor infractions. I was feeling irritated by little things. And so, at this important juncture of the day, I made one fatal error.

I decided to clean out our storage closet.

I should have holed us all up in a bedroom with the a/c unit blasting. I should have gotten out the paints and stickers and made a huge mess! Or at the very least, I should have turned on the TV and sat down! But no, I was pulling out strollers and bikes and boxes filled with odd and ends and I kept snapping at the kids and at the inanimate objects that were just trying to obey gravity.

I emailed an SOS to Dave and jumped the shower. I put the kids in the bath and by the time reinforcements arrived (after a nasty commute home that included getting stuck on a very hot and crowded platform), we were okay again.

And so today, I am working on forgiving myself for becoming the grouch that I like to pretend never surfaces. I'm trying to learn my lesson and not DO so much. And luckily neither Andrew or Isaac seem to be suffering the ill effects of yesterday's grouchy mommy. I wish it was as easy for me to forgive myself as it is for them to forgive me.

Onward and onward, my friends.



Yesterday, during Isaac's quiet time I made this scrapbook page about Dave. Dave and I frequently find ourselves in a mess of communication and when we do, Dave likes to remind me that HE was a Speech Communications Major. ;) I've written down some of his best lines and put them in the blue pocket on those tickets. I've been wanting to write down some of the zany things he says for a while now and like that I have this to use for that. He really does say the craziest things. I LOVE it.

rough spot

Here at the Rice House we have found ourselves in a rough spot. Isaac is spiking fevers and coughing. He is lethargic, but snuggly. He has no appetite and insists that the only way he can make it through the day is by watching Little Einsteins for hours and by clutching his favorite train, Gordon, for dear life.

Meanwhile, Andrew has had a couple of really hard days at school. His after-school report on Wednesday was the worst we've ever gotten. Yesterday wasn't great either and I'm hoping for a much better day today. I always feel a twinge of guilt dropping him off at school after a bad couple of days. But, it really feels like his teachers and I are working together on this. Hopefully we will all pull through with lessons learned and more tools in our belts. Hopefully.

And, as summer has hit New York I have been struggling with the heat. The fans cannot blow hard enough. The air conditioners cannot get cold enough. And being stuck in our hot apartment with one very sick boy and one very naughty one has made for long, stressful, boring afternoons.

I could really use a Mama Away. When things get like this I want to escape to a nice cool lake and swim by myself for hours and drink iced coffee and recharge. I wonder if that could be arranged...

Come So Far: motherhood

Yesterday I added another page to my Come So Far book. I know motherhood has changed me a lot...but I found it hard to say how. I know it flipped my identity upside down and inside out and it took me months to figure out who the heck I was and what my life was about (not sure I'm done with that work yet, actually), but it was hard to pin down exactly what I meant.

I baked a lot before I had kids. I bake a lot now.
I made quilts before I had kids. I make quilts now (well, when my sewing machine and I are getting along).
I drank tea then. Oh boy do I drink tea now.
I didn't take pictures.
I certainly didn't scrapbook.
I slept in more then. I watch more TV now.
I used to eat at restaurants. But I cook better (and faster) now.
I used to think I didn't need to buy a new roll of toilet paper until we were completely out of toilet paper. Now I have 3 back ups.
I think I am generally more responsible. And I feel more grown up...especially in the last 6 months. And I'm not sure I always like that feeling.

But that's not what I ended up writing in my scrapbook. I ended up writing "I changed a lot, we changed a lot, everything changed." Maybe I should go back and add some specifics. ;)

TV

Today I made this while Isaac didn't nap and Andrew wasn't feeling like observing quiet time. And, ironically, I set them up with a Charlie Brown DVD so I could finish. Somedays I swear I have to fight hard for time for me. I wish I didn't have to fight for it. It makes me feel bad about taking it.

Anyway, for this layout I wanted to play with a 1950's feel. I searched online for a 1950's font and downloaded one called Fontdinerdotcom Sparkly. I love it! So stinkin' cute! I only used it for the title and the little sparkles I glued here and there. For the journaling I just used Marker Felt. I love learning about fonts!



Here's what I wrote:
I have a love/hate relationship with TV. I love when you two watch TV at the end of a hard day’s play, when you are sweaty and tired and ready for some rest, when I need to make dinner and would like to cook all by myself, when you both lay quietly on the couch soaking in the easy entertainment. My ideal is that you watch TV for an hour a day, from 5-6. Often we actually have those ideal days and the TV really doesn’t go on until 5. On those days I just LOVE TV.

Sometimes the TV doesn’t come on at all. Then I feel absolutely victorious.

But, sometimes it comes on earlier. When I want to talk on the phone, it’s the easy button for keeping things quiet. When kids are feeling sick and clingy and I need some space, I turn on our old friend to get a little relief. And sometimes it comes on and I don’t really know why. And I try to think up strategies for getting it off and getting you engaged in something else.

I’m not really sure why I don’t want you watching too much TV. I guess I think it’s a waste of time. You could be drawing or building or puzzling or playing trains. You could be an active participant in your environment and wrestle out valuable educational gems from your toys. You definitely learn things from the TV you watch, but it doesn’t feel as authentic to me as the things you learn by tinkering.

You both however, have a love/love/love relationship with TV. Andrew, you love to watch Super Readers, Plastic Man (a DVD series Uncle Chuck sent you), and CyberChase. Isaac, your favorite show is easily Little Einsteins, and often you get so mad when I put something else on for you and Andrew to watch. In fact, Isaac, you love TV much more than Andrew ever did. You know how to turn it on, look through the channels for something you like and have thrown loud and messy tantrums when I turn off the power switch.

The TV just seems like such a powerful component in our daily lives. A lovely, helpful tool. An engaging, educational form of entertainment. A time wasting machine. And I find managing our use of it tricky and heavy, though sometimes skillful. But I’m not getting rid of it. No way.

mother critic

I frequently feel guilty about ridiculous things. Like letting my boys watch TV or play on the computer or drink lots of apple juice. I mean, I think all of those things are fine in moderation and not so great in excess. But I often find that, in the moment, I can't tell which category I fall into. Well, expect for the apple juice...I'm certain that we usually fall into the category of "excess".

Anyway, the other day when my friend called, Andrew decided that he would interrupt and distract and do whatever he could to inhibit any social interaction I might be trying to have. So, I put him on the computer.

And then I spent the rest of the phone call enjoying talking to my friend while feeling guilty that Andrew was on the computer and not doing something better. Like looking at books, or contemplating how flashlights work, or building something big and complicated.

And then something dawned on me. The moments when I am feeling guilty about being a bad parent, are probably some of Andrew's favorite moments. He loves being on the computer too much and watching too much TV and the more apple juice, the better. And for some reason, that eased the guilt a little. It made me not feel so bad.

And then my friend pointed out, that he also loves the moments when I feel like a good parent. Like when we make things or discover things or have real connections together.

Anyway, it all just felt good and balanced and normal.

muffins and mothering

First, a recipe:

Anyberry Muffins
(adapted from A Passion For Baking)
2 1/4 cup sugar
1/2 veg oil
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
4 large eggs
1 T vanilla
1/2 t orange extract
1 T baking powder
1/4 t baking soda
1/2 t salt
1 cup milk
1/2 cup sour cream
5 cups flour
2 cups anyberries

Preheat the oven to 425.
Mix together sugar, oil and butter.
Add eggs and vanilla and orange extract. Mix it, mix it.
Add baking powder, baking soda, salt.
I like to add the flour and the milk and sour cream in shifts. A little flour, a little milk, a little more flour, the sour cream, more flour, milk, etc. etc.
And for the anyberries, I used blueberries and cherries. Yum! Just don't use strawberries, but other than that, the berry world is yours.
Spray your muffin tin. Pour the batter in the muffin tin (makes 24!!! awesome muffins).
Bake for 15 minutes, lower the heat to 350 and bake for 12-15 more minutes.

I also made this recipe into a quick bread a little while ago. I just poured the batter into two loaf pans and baked them for like an hour or until they were done, done, done.



and on mothering:
Every now and then I hit sort of a blah place in mothering. I get snappy and irritable. And I hate it. The kids don't seem to mind, go figure. But I hate it. Anyway, I was in that place and then yesterday morning I woke up with this realization. Ready for this one? It's gonna blow you away. Here goes nothing:

Mothering is hard.

See, what I noticed about my blah place is that I think to myself things like "why can't I do this right?" "Why do I feel overwhelmed?" "This isn't that hard. What's my problem?" "I mean honestly!! I have a MASTER'S DEGREE IN EDUCATION!!!" And on and on...and instead of helping (!) it just makes me feel worse.

So, yesterday when I woke up and I thought, "hmm....mothering is hard." it made a huge difference. Instead of getting upset with myself during the day, I would remind myself, "yup. this is hard work." and it felt so very validating. When I got tired around 4, I didn't sit around and wonder why. I realized that I was tired because I had been working hard all day. Cooking and cooking and baking and cleaning and laundry and caring for active and trouble-seeking boys. Spinning and spinning from one thing to the next to the next to the next.

And I also know that the way I do things, I really ask for it. I mean, honestly, can't I just buy a loaf of bread instead of insisting on making it all of the time? Seriously. I totally add more work for myself. But, I like my systems and routines and the more work. I like making bread because I like homemade bread. and muffins. and cakes. and, well, you know.

So, I thought this might be worth sharing because maybe someone reading this is a mom and doesn't realize that mothering is hard work. And so, just in case, I thought I should let you know: this is hard work.

stuff management

It probably won't surprise you to know that I congratulate myself on my mothering now and then. And I bet all mothers do, or should do, regular rounds of self praise for their hard work. What specific area am I directing the praise now, you ask?

Stuff Management.

After Christmas and the boys' birthdays I've gotten into the habit of sorting through our toy shelves and book baskets. I pack away toys that are dusty with neglect. I rearrange things to give hidden toys more spotlight. I fix broken books. I pull out toys that seem new again after a few months in the closet. And I stick to my promise that our apartment will not, under any circumstance, become a toy wonderland.

But that goal is getting harder and harder to meet.

Now that Isaac actually plays and has toys of his own, our shelves are getting cramped. There is spillover into baskets and boxes placed in hidden corners. Shelves that didn't used to hold toys are now toy territory. I might be losing the battle, my friends.

This time, as I sorted through, I was hoping for a huge pile of goods to tote to the Salvation Army. But it didn't happen. As I surveyed things it was hard to find things that the boys didn't play with. A lot can be said about my boys. They are loud and crazy and I'm certain my neighbors get frustrated with our noise. But what's also true of them is that they play. They seriously engage with their play. Which I love, because then I can serious engage with mine.

So here's the decision. Do I purge more toys in the name of freeing up space? Or do I keep them in the name of freeing up time? I guess, like most things, I'll try to find some middle ground that we all can agree on. Until then, that space under the bed is looking like it might fit a few more boxes of stuff. I'll have to see what I can do.

boundaries

I have been having trouble with Isaac lately. Isaac is in the stage where his every waking moment is all about exploration, movement and...destruction.

I don't remember having this much trouble with Andrew. And that could be for several reasons. When Andrew was Isaac's age, he was an only child. He was easier to keep track of because I wasn't keeping track of much else. We also lived in a smaller place, which I think also made him not only easier to keep track of, but easier to contain. And, being the only child, there was no one to compare him to. Often with Isaac I think, "Man, he's a lot of trouble...not like Andrew." (Though, if you asked me in January where I was at with comparisons I would have told you the opposite. 'Andrew is a lot of trouble...not like Isaac.')

Isaac keeping me on my toes in itself is not really the problem. The problem is my feelings about it. If I am honest with myself and I take a look at what I feel about Isaac emptying the tupperware cabinet for the third time today, I don't like what I see. I don't like being so frustrated with Isaac. He's a baby. It doesn't seem fair and it doesn't seem reasonable. But willing the feelings away has not worked. So, I took some action.

I decided to invest in my relationship with Isaac. I bought a baby gate.

I block off the part of kitchen where I cook. This keeps him out of the fridge, the tupperware cabinet, the cabinet under the sink and most importantly, the broiler. Our kitchen is set up long and narrow, so he is still able to be in the kitchen with me and bang on pots and pans, but he's not under my feet. I have my dance space and he has his dance space.

The trial run of the baby gate did not go well. While I made dinner he stood at the baby gate crying. For half an hour. I tried giving him snacks, juice, toys...but that's not what he wanted. He wanted things the way they were. Our routine was: I make dinner, he drives me crazy. And he LOVED our routine. He could not see why any change was necessary. And after a half hour of tears I could not if any change was worth it.

The next night he didn't even notice that I put the gate up. He sought out his Entertainment Director (Andrew) and spent the time exploring a newly formed couch-cushion maze.

So far I am really getting my bang for my buck. I am overall much less frustrated with Isaac. Even when he flips over 25 times during a diaper change. Even when he pulls my hair. Even when he keeps me up from 4-5 this morning with sore gums and new teeth.

Amazing what good boundaries can do.

gifts

There have been a lot of things that surprise me about parenting. And one of the things I've been thinking about lately is how much I love giving gifts to my children. I love seeing them happy.

Now, hold on a minute here. Before you let your eyes roll, hear me out. I know it seems obvious that parents would enjoy seeing their children happy, but what is surprising to me is how much I love seeing them happy. And the lengths I would go to for those expressions of joy. I put them on carnival rides. I tickle their bellies. I play with them in the snow. And I buy them gifts. All for the double whammy effect: they're bursting with joy and I am too.

Maybe it's hormonal.

Anyway, Easter is upon us. And I've put in many hours of internet research on what toys I want to get for them. I've taken into account their ages, interests, what they already have, how long the toys will last (both in durability and in play value), where we would put them and well, if the toys are cute. It's not so bad tripping on a toy if the toy is cute. Just telling it like it is.

So, I ordered some of these cars for Isaac. And when they came yesterday, the company wisely sent along a catalog. So, I showed the catalog to Andrew. His first Looking-In-A-Toy-Catalog experience.

He flips through it past the baby toys, past the stuffed animals and then he finds this. And Oh. My. Goodness.

First he traces the track and shows me exactly how the balls get from the top to the bottom. Then he closes the catalog and flips through it until he finds the toy again. As though he's playing hide-and-seek. He flips from the front. He flips from the back. He tries opening it to the right page in the middle.

I think he's drawn to building things.

Anyway, I want your opinion. Andrew already has train tracks, legos, tinker toys, a work bench, and wooden blocks (and this does not include the cardboard boxes and couch cushions and banana peels and other things he finds that he can build with). Wouldn't you say we have enough toys to use for building? Shouldn't I be encouraging other areas of Andrew?

The question is not so much "should I buy this track for Andrew?" but more "If he has and loves one kind of thing (construction materials) do we run with it, or do we try to encourage other kinds of play?" Is telling Andrew that he has enough toys to build with like telling me that I have enough craft supplies?

I asked Dave and showed him the track and Dave said, "I had something like that. Andrew likes to play with the toys I used to play with!" Dave loves the track, thinks we should get it, or something like it, and I imagine that Dave has every intention of playing with it himself.

Anyway, this is something I've been thinking about and thought I would throw it out there. What do you think?

Robyn As Mom

1. Sometimes I guard my children's diets. I want them to eat healthy, balanced meals. And then sometimes I make sure they eat their cookies.

2. Sometimes I guard my children's safety. We hold hands crossing streets and keep toxic cleaning solutions at bay. And then sometimes I catch them rummaging in my sewing drawer examining my pin cushion.

3. Sometimes I guard my children's learning. This week we've been working on kite cookies and paper kite decorations. And then sometimes I think maybe I should actually show them a real kite...or even better...make one to fly! Now why was that an afterthought?

4. But lately, I've realized I'm seriously committed to guarding my children's play. If Andrew spends all morning building "The City of New York" with his blocks I go to extreme measure to keep Baby-zilla (um, Isaac) from knocking the whole thing down. Setting up a blockade of furniture? Done it. Diving across the dining room to catch the Eager Destroyer? Yes. Providing Isaac-free time and space for Andrew's urban renewal projects? Absolutely.

I guess we all have our strengths.


Yummy Honey White Bread. oh my goodness. ;)

big news!

Guess who slept through the night last night?

Yep. Me!

And instead of waking up cranky and sleep deprived, I woke up gentle and reflective. I looked out my bedroom window and took in the morning light thinking things that poets might think about morning light.

And it was really nice.

Thanks, Isaac.

finally!

Each day I am able to recognize more and more of Andrew. He's coming back little by little. And I am so relieved and delighted.

It began yesterday. Andrew, as I've told you, loves trains. Loves them. Loba gave him a train set for his birthday last June and I'm not exaggerating when I say that he has played with them everyday since.

Well, I have to say, the trains were getting a little dusty. As Andrew moved in and out of his defiant and needy period, the trains sat neglected in their basket. Well, yesterday, after two or three trips to time out, he pulled out his basket and began. Before I knew it there were hills and tunnels and bridges and sharp turns and straight paths all over the living room. Non-train toys were added as props. And, it would be fair to say that not only Andrew, but Thomas himself, had a wonderful time. And I was swooning from relief.

He was back.

Today we had Mommy School for the first time in a month. We got the trains out again. And, since Andrew was using his creative juices to construct tracks rather than drive me bananas, I was able to get cracking on some pajamas for him and Isaac.

Things are back to normal.
ahhh....sweet relief, how I love you.

I really, really want to be perfect

I mean, I try really hard and sometimes I think I've almost got it, but every now and then a ray of truth pierces the image I've built around myself. And let me tell you. It's quite painful.

I wish that I wanted something different. Like to be strong. Or to be friendly. Or to be anything remotely attainable. But this longing for perfection sure is the pits.

Sometimes I quietly tell myself that there is a society of perfect parents and with just a few more credentials I just might be able to join the group. Perfect parents are the ones that don't let their kids watch TV, drink juice or eat sugary things. They never lose their cool and have quick answers for tricky situations. I don't think I've ever met one and when I am thinking clearly I know that, like fairies, their existence is questionable, but when I'm not thinking clearly they are a very real presence that I use as a way to measure my parenting performance.

Yesterday I lost my cool, didn't know what to do in a tricky situation and I let Andrew, actually made sure Andrew watched too much TV. We also each drank juice and I sure ate my fill of sugary things (cinnamon buns! cookies!) though I can't remember if Andrew actually had any. Yesterday seemed to be the Grand Finale of the weeks of blah I've been having. And, lucky me, friends were here to see the great unraveling (Hi Melissa!!).

So, the bad news and the good news is that I'm not a perfect parent. The trick is to stop wanting to be so perfect. A friend recently told me that she knew she couldn't be a really good mom, but she thought she would be excellent at being mediocre. I think I should try for that.

Robyn Rice: consistently meeting new levels of mediocrity...one swig of apple juice at a time.

it would be fair

to say, that we are in a rough patch.

One of our roughest of rough patches. Andrew is up and about every night and we have our hunches that he is a sleepwalker of the serious sort. Isaac has drawn out a cold/upper respiratory infection/cough for over two weeks now and is also up frequently at night. And, to put it mildly, Andrew has been difficult during the day.

I'm just plain pooped.

Today I was thinking that all of this feels like training. I feel like I am training for some hard core experience that will be demanding both day and night, physically and emotionally. I thought and thought about what kind of thing I might be in training for. And then it came to me. More mothering. I am in training to just keep doing what I'm doing.

oye vey.

And speaking of hard work of the mothering sort, it appears that Loba will have having that baby sooner rather than later. Labor has begun! Congrats little family! Ready yourselves for serious training!

idle

I have been so busy. Christmas, yes. Kids, yes. Day to day family maintenance, yes. But I think it's more than that. I find myself spacing out at about 3 o'clock in the afternoon and wondering why. I had a good night's sleep. I haven't done anything too crazy today. Why am I so tired? Is it my diet? Am I not getting enough exercise? Are these cah-razy kids getting to me? What is going on?

Then, I've been laying in bed at night and I cannot shut down. My mind keeps turning and turning. Processing and processing. Going over conversations. Going over events. Making sense of my day. And last night, it occurred to me that I don't allow myself any idle time.

After the kids go to bed, I'm either on to the next project, or turning on the TV or somehow engaging myself with something. The need to be busy. The need to be entertained. The fear of boredom.

So, last night, after trying unsuccessfully to go to sleep early, I decided to engage in some idle time. I did not pick up my book. I did not go and turn on the TV. I opened the curtain and lay on my bed and just thought and thought. I let my mind think about whatever it wanted to think about. Whatever mundane thing my mind needed to make sense of, we thought about that and made sense of that. It was a little bit prayer, a little bit daydreaming, a little bit figuring.

And it was wonderful and peaceful. I found that after some idle time I had more perspective on where things are right now. On what I wanted and needed and have and do. And that perspective was so nice and refreshing and seemed better than sleep itself.

So, I'm thinking that my New Year's goal (I am SO ahead of the game) will be about idleness. About making time for it and using it and learning from it.

And that's what I have for you today.

Trains and Paint

Sometimes it amazes me that I conceived and gave birth to a kid that is not crafty. He loves Mommy School except when he is asked to pick up a pencil or crayon or marker and draw on paper. He always asks me to do that part for him.

The other day I thought that if I unrolled a huge piece of paper on our dining room floor and declared that we would draw (drum roll please) TRAINS that he would love it! We could crawl around, use our whole bodies and draw his favorite thing ever.

But. As Andrew is, and will always be, Andrew, that did not happen. I drew trains. Andrew got out his toy trains and had them run up and down the tracks as I drew.

Why is this so important? I mean, honestly, not everyone likes to draw. Not everyone has to constantly make things. People can live very fulfilling lives never even owning their own cake pans. Why push it?

Because, my friends, I am in constant search of things that Andrew and I can do together. When we play trains, my eyes glaze over. When we draw or paint, Andrew's eyes glaze over. I want to find things that we both can do bright eyed. Or, maybe, just maybe, wide-eyed.

So this morning I thought I would give it another shot. I thought we could skip Mommy School and make a Christmas decoration instead. Perhaps a wreath for our door. I was recently inspired by this wreath from Paper Source and thought we might be able to do our own variation. So I made a stamp out of cardboard in the shape of a diamond and I whipped up some burgundy paint. Maybe this will work.



So I stamped the first few diamonds. See Andrew? This is so much fun! He showed some interest. And decided that he could take over. But with a twist. The diamond stamp became a boat. The paper became water. And instead of stamping, sailing! He smeared paint around on the paper for dozens of minutes. Which for Andrew, is a crafting record.



It was not at all what I envisioned. It was so much better. To him, we were playing boats. To me, we were painting. A delightful compromise, I'd say. I plan on taking what I've learned today and running with it.

I see brown paint and toy cars in our future.
Stay tuned.

growth

I've come so far. I really have.

The older Andrew gets, and, perhaps, the older I get, the more I understand him.

Today I took the boys to a Staples to pick something up. Andrew was riding on a buggy board that was attached to the back of the stroller. I walked down an aisle and stopped the stroller so I could go and get the paper I needed. Nearby was a set of metal stairs on wheels that the employees use to reach items on the top shelves. I told Andrew, "Stay right here." I would only be a few feet away, but you never know. He smiled and said, "okay." I turned my back to get the paper and when I turned around Andrew had left the buggy board and had climbed up to the top of the stairs.

Why did I not see that coming? I mean, honestly, how could have resisted that without firm support from his mama? The temptation was too great.

And that, my friends, is how I've grown.

If he had done that a year ago I would have been mortified. I would have interpreted everyone's glance, everyone's reaction to be something along the lines of "that mother needs to get control of her kid. My kid would never do that!" The thing is, they might still be thinking that, and, to a certain extent, they are right. Andrew shouldn't be climbing precarious "employee only" stairs in the middle of stores. But, what I have learned is: I'm not done. I'm still full throttle in this mothering thing and he is still a work in progress. We'll get there.

And that means, when I am plucking him off of the stairs, I am more likely laughing inside than drowning in shame. And that is enormous progress.

Little Guy, Big Impact

Birdseed Bread: whole wheat bread with sesame seeds, sunflower seeds and flax seed.

Isaac now eats food. Real food. This morning he had pureed apples for breakfast. Last night it was pureed squash. Whatever fruits or vegetables I'm serving up for the others, get cut up, cooked and pureed for the little guy. Sometimes he'll gnaw on a crust of homemade bread or bagel. It's the real deal. His diet, although still mostly milk, now has real food. And there's no turning back.

I dreaded this stage. I wanted him to be milk-only for as long as possible. I waited longer to give him solids than I did with Andrew, and mostly for selfish reasons. I'm not the biggest fan of sitting and spoon-feeding babies. It's messy. It can be frustrating. And it just seems to take forever. But since Issac has been dining with us there have been unexpected benefits.

When we all sit around the table, eating food I've made, I feel overwhelmed with feelings of Family and Mother. We really are a family and I really am a mother. This isn't pretend anymore. It feels big and responsible and warm and I love it.

Also, this is embarrassing, but here goes: Andrew and I used to pull up our chairs to the computer so I could read blogs while we ate breakfast. Well, my friends, no more. Now that Isaac is in on breakfast, we eat at the table so I can spoon feed him apples while eating my oatmeal and chatting with Andrew. And, turns out, that's really nice.

Sometimes dinner is louder. Sometimes Dave and I can't hear each other from Isaac and Andrew laughing so loudly. Sometimes I eat really quickly so I can feed Isaac and move him through the bedtime routines before he gets fussy. But, it's much, much better than I was expecting. I'd say, downright enjoyable.



Thanks for all of your comments and encouragement on Friday! It was really helpful and I've felt much better ever since. Thanks!

to have and to hold.

Today while Andrew was playing train I hear him, on behalf of his trains, say in a squeaky voice "It's my tunnel!" slight change of voice: "No, it's my tunnel!" and on and on. He had two trains lined up to go through the tunnel and one would pull up to stake his claim, right before the other train would do the same. His tone wasn't frustrated. He was enjoying playing this out.

It got me thinking.

I think that having is more fun when others want what you have. Access to the tunnel is more desirable for Thomas if Emily also wants access to the tunnel. Since they both want to be there, it increases the inherent value of the tunnel. It confirms that the tunnel is a good thing to go through.

I know this isn't new, ground breaking stuff. This is a common rule of society that affects the price of everything from real estate to milk. It affects the gifts people give and ask for at Christmas (are flat screen TV's really that great? or is it really about just having one...or better, being one of the first to have one?). And it absolutely affected my need for pink converse sneakers in the 4th grade. I mean the little black star was nice and all, but I had to get a pair before Valerie did.

So what really struck me about principal is how young it all starts. Andrew is 3 and he clearly understands the basics behind 'having' and is beginning to understand that having is all the better when others want what you have.

Last night Isaac was in his exersaucer while I was making dinner and he was getting a little fussy. Andrew was trying to help. Andrew brought Isaac his most prized toy of all: his Thomas train. And Isaac loved it. But, Isaac's play at this point is all about oral exploration. And when Andrew saw his beloved train dripping with baby drool he reconsidered and took the train back. Isaac was devastated. He wailed. And so Andrew tried giving him other things. But he didn't want other things. He wanted Andrew's favorite thing. He wanted the Thomas train.

Could Isaac get it? Does Isaac see that the Thomas train is valuable because Andrew loves it so much? Or was there something about it's construction that is especially soothing to teething gums? I'm really not sure.

When I signed up to be a parent I knew that I would have to feed and clothe my kids. I knew I'd need to take care of them when they were sick and wash their stinky feet. I didn't really think about my role in raising consumers. I didn't think about that I would have to take a stab at teaching them about healthy ways to 'have' and healthy ways to 'want'. And unfortunately for them, I am sorely under-qualified.

I guess we'll muddle through, as best as we can. ;)