Friday, December 9, 2005

The Polar Express

Last night, we rode the North Pole Express.

What a fun outing! The train departed at 6pm. Santa's elves read the The Polar Express book by Chris Van Allsburg, while the children ate sugar cookies and drank chocolate milk. Each child was given a little bell tied onto a red string. Then, all passengers and elves sang Christmas carols. When we arrived at the "North Pole", Santa boarded the train. As Santa walked through the train cars, he awarded each child a candy cane.

After the experience at the mall yesterday morning, I expected Dagny and Valerie to panic if Santa came too close.

Fortunately, no one in our group grew hysterical! If it weren't for the candy canes, I don't think either of the girls would have been so amicable to the dear old man in red.

From the picture below, it's easy to gauge the temperature of the reception the girls gave him!

Polar Express

Thursday, December 8, 2005

Live and In Person

Today, we went to see Santa Claus at the mall. We had other business to attend to at the mall, so I explained to the girls that Santa would be there. If they would like, each of them could talk to him, tell him what they wanted for Christmas and even have their picture taken with him. With all of the excitement typical of a little child, both girls were quite enthusiastic!

As we parked the car and walked through the automatic doors, Valerie and Dagny boasted about all of the things they intended to tell jolly ole Saint Nick. It seemed as though I would probably have to tear them out of Santa's lap to give other children a chance before Santa's next break.

That was until we neared the center of the mall and saw the colossal display, including a snow man, reindeer, a two-story Christmas tree, gigantic candy canes. We walked to the front of the display and I showed them where Santa was sitting. At that moment, two little boys were lucky enough to get their picture taken with the man in red.

Suddenly, Dagny nearly pulled my pants down, as she gasped, "Mommy, carry me!"

Likewise, Valerie stopped in her tracks. I moved closer to the fence separating the crowd of onlookers from the display. I offered to go with them to visit Santa.

Valerie replied, "No, mom. Let's get out of here!"

So we watched for a few moments, allowing the girls to change their minds. As we left, Valerie's confidence grew and she informed me that she'd prefer to write Santa a letter.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

A Truly Magical Guy

With Thanksgiving behind us, the girls are obsessed with Santa Claus.

Dagny sometimes self-corrects her mischief two-year-old behavior, as she says, "Santa Claus knows what I'm doing, mommy!"

Meanwhile, Valerie ponders the idea of Santa Claus.

Today, she asked me, "Can Santa Claus really see me?"

"Yes," I replied.

Fully analyzing my answer, she pressed further, "How can he see me?"

"Honey, he's a magical guy," which was enough of an answer for now.

What will she ask tomorrow....

Sunday, November 27, 2005

Will Santa See Himself?

Today, the girls pleaded and pleaded to put up the Christmas decorations around the house. Namely, they wanted to put up the Christmas tree. Perhaps they believe Christmas will come sooner with the decorations in their places.

At one point, while trimming the tree, Valerie asked, "Will Santa see himself when he comes to our house?"

I probed, "What do you mean? Are you asking if he can see himself in the mirror?"

She said, "No, will he see himself on our tree?!"

Finally realizing what she was getting at, I replied, "Yes, he will be able to see all of the ornaments on our tree that look like him. Yes, of course, he will see himself!"

She smiled and continued to carefully and methodically place the miniature Santa ornaments on the tree.

Monday, November 21, 2005

The Pillars of Character

Apparently, child educators have taken on teaching basic values to children. Each month, Valerie's school opts to focus on one of the six pillars of character in the classroom. I don't remember doing this when I was in preschool or elementary school. But back then, parents and grandparents usually provided these life lessons at home. Perhaps families are too busy these days. Somebody should be responsible for teaching these basic codes of behavior in our society to our future leaders.

Overall, I agree that these pillars of character are a good idea. Yet, I can't help but wonder how these pillars are a bit contradictory. A perfect example arose the other day.

Despite the current concentration on the virtue of "caring", Valerie asked me if I was, "carrying a baby in my tummy".

Not sure where this was going, I responded, "No, honey. I don't have a baby in my tummy. Do you want a baby sister or brother?"

Valerie flatly remarked, "No mommy. You just look like you have a baby in your belly."

I wanted to shout, "But, I go to the gym! I only weigh 118 pounds and am still a size 4 or 6 (depending on the cut)! I've given birth to two kids via cesarean section! My mid-section doesn't look THAT bad!"

Instead, I gritted my teeth and focused on her demonstration of honesty. I wondered when would be a good time to teach the grey area of these six pillars of character. Her honesty completely blew away the "caring" pillar.

I know a few adults who could use a lesson in this grey area, too.

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Thirty-Ten

Valerie: Mom, how old are you?

Me: Thirty-five.

Valerie: Then you'll be thirty-six.

Me: Yes

Valerie: Then you'll be thirty-seven.

Me: You got it.

Valerie: Then you'll be thirty-eight.

Me: Yep, you're a good counter.

Valerie: Then you'll be thirty-nine.

Me: You're right on track, honey.

Valerie: Then you'll be thirty-ten.

Me: Also known as, forty.

Valerie: No you'll be THIRTY-TEN!

Me: I guess thirty-ten sounds better than forty.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Guess how much....?

Valerie reminded me that next week is Thanksgiving. It falls on the same day as her "share" day at school.

Disappointed that she will be missing the ever-so-important "share" day at school, I suggested we have a share day at our house on Thanksgiving. To make it more appealing, I offered that she could have "share" time with our Thanksgiving guests, including Grandma Gwen, Grandpa Jim, Aunt Sarah and her cousin Abby. This news solicited a smile.

"Mom, you know what? Grandma and Grandpa are going to see me and tell me I've grown so big and ask me what I've been eating to grow so tall!"

I ventured, "What will you tell them?"

"I've been eating DONUTS!"

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

He Know If You've Been Bad or Good...

I don't recall exactly how it started.

I must have been irritated with the antics of a two-and-a-half year old. It's easy for any parent to feel like he or she is coming to the end of his or her rope with a child this age.

At the time, she was probably hanging from a chandelier or something comparable. But, knowing that we were nearing the holiday season, a song came to popped into my mind:

Oh! You better watch out,
You better not cry,
You better not pout,
I'm telling you why:
Santa Claus is coming to town!

He's making a list,
Checking it twice,
Gonna find out who's naughty or nice.
Santa Claus is coming to town!

He sees you when you're sleeping,
He knows when you're awake.
He knows if you've been bad or good,
So be good for goodness sake!

Oh! You better watch out,
You better not cry,
You better not pout,
I'm telling you why:
Santa Claus is coming to town!

The line that popped into my mind and out of my mouth was "He knows if you've been bad or good, So be good for goodness sake!"

Ever since, whenever Dagny does something she knows is inappropriate behavior, she'll tell me, "Santa Claus knows what I'm doing, mommy!" Then, she self-corrects.

The over-commercialization of this holiday may not be so bad after all.

Wednesday, November 9, 2005

Lessons Learned

Parents and children had more personal freedoms when I grew up. Of course, that's my perception. But, some of life's lessons were not necessarily taught to me by my parents or my teachers. They just came from personal experiences of what worked and what didn't.

For example, I don't remember my mother nagging me to wear a specific type of shoe to school. I don't recall the "rules" about the types of shoes a child could wear to school. The way I remember it, if I wore the wrong shoes to school, I quickly discovered my mistake when I couldn't properly grip the jungle gym with my feet. The next day, and thereafter until my memory lapsed due to the discovery of a fashionable alternative, I wore the appropriate feet gear.

Recently, I purchased Valerie the ugly, but growing in popularity, croc shoes. Upon receipt, the shoes won a very warm reception and were chosen to be worn to school. The shoes technically fit into the "covered toes" category, but clearly they were not going to be useful for climbing on playground equipment. Being a mother prone to nagging, I recall questioning my daughter's decision. "Valerie, those shoes are not appropriate to wear to school. Your sneakers are a better choice." As expected, she rejected my opinion. For the first time in two years of attending school, I opted to let her learn for herself.

Little did I know, that HER choice would be my fault.

Picking Valerie up from school that afternoon, she immediately expressed her outrage. "MOMMY, Ms. S said that YOU should NOT let me wear these shoes to school," she reprimanded.

Interested to understand what transpired, I asked, "Why?"

Valerie explained, "Because I will slip and fall and HURT myself."

Looking for more, I asked, "So did you?"

Valerie said, "No. Ms. S wouldn't let me play on the playground because these shoes are dangerous."

That's very interesting.... Now, she knows that she can't wear the shoes on the playground because of what she was TOLD, not because of what she experienced.

I assumed that was the end of the event, until I opened Valerie's backpack which carried a personal note from Ms. S. It said, "Mrs Haim, While Valerie's shoes are very cute, please do not let Valerie wear these shoes to school. They are unsafe for playing outside. Thank you for your help and understanding in this matter."

At first, I felt guilty. How could a caring, responsible mother send her offspring to school in unsafe shoes?

Then, I grew a little miffed. Why is this my fault? At some point, children will have to learn about life via the traditional trial and error method. Perhaps this is how adults are failing children these days - children haven't learned anything from personal experience because they just aren't ALLOWED to make natural mistakes anymore. Perhaps this is why kids who graduate from college these days are incapable of making independent decisions.

Then it hit me. Ms. S doesn't know whether or not I'm one of those parents whose lawyers will show up threatening to sue the school in the event she falls and breaks a limb. I don't think I'm one of those parents. But then again, Valerie hasn't broken a limb on school grounds, yet.

Saturday, November 5, 2005

At Your Service

The girls opted to eat their lunch on their outdoor picnic table.

But, Ken and I were informed that we should eat our lunch in the kitchen "just in case [the kids] NEED something".

Glad to know our services are appreciated. Apparently, we are a little TOO accommodating.

So, we ate lunch outside, too, to clearly show that the inmates aren't entirely running the asylum.

Friday, November 4, 2005

Birthday Wishes

Today was my birthday.

At one point, I told my girls so and asked them if they wanted to wish me a happy birthday.

Pausing at the news, Dagny announced, "Mommy, I two and a half!" I was pleased that she understood the association of age and birthdays.

On the other hand, Valerie explained that she was too tired to wish me a happy birthday.

I responded, singing, "Nobody likes me. Everybody hates me. Guess I'll go eat worms."

That certainly created a rise out of my eldest daughter. "Ewe, mom. Worms are SOOO gross!"

I waited a few moments and informed her that on her next birthday, I was NOT going to wish her well, since she can't seem to be nice to her mother on her special day.

At this unexpected news, Valerie flatly stated, "Then I guess I'll go play with bugs, too."

In the end, Valerie came through by picking some flowers in the garden to honor my special day.

Tuesday, November 1, 2005

If you swallow a.....

On the way home from school in the car Valerie announced, "Mom. Did you know that if you swallow a knife, you will bleed a lot and die!"

That seems like an accurate observation. How did you arrive at that assessment, my dear? How about we NOT test that hypothesis?

Monday, October 31, 2005

Halloween Night

Tonight, the girls traded in their former bug costumes to become princesses for an evening. These costumes were taken from our dress-up closet about ten minutes prior to leaving the house for trick-or-treat.....

Trick or Treat

Saturday, October 29, 2005

Halloween Party II

By our second Halloween Party, we had a last minute costume change. The girls both opted to be ladybugs.

Halloween II

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Who's a Baby?

Dagny has a friend who's going to have a baby sister in a couple of weeks, if not sooner. As I explain to both of my girls this fact, Dagny always assures me, "Mommy, I a baby."

I assume, she is trying to enforce the fact that, indeed, she is the baby of the California Haim clan.

I indulge her when she announces such facts, "Yes Dagny, you are my baby!"

Dagny repeats more loudly, "Mommy, I A BABY!"

Me: I know Dagny, you are the baby of our family. You are the youngest in our family.

Dagny (smiling): I A BABY!

Me: But honey, did you know that real little babies don't get to eat pizza?

Pause.

Me: Did you know that babies don't get to eat candy at Halloween?

Dagny (her resolve slipping a bit): I a baby....

Me: Did you know that babies don't get to go to school?

Pause.

Dagny (emphatically): I A BIG GIRL!

Sunday, October 23, 2005

Halloween Party I

Today was our first Halloween party of the season. The girls dressed up as a bee and a butterfly.

Admittedly, Valerie put together her own costume & was quite proud of herself. The wings were from one of those dollar stores. It was probably the cheapest costume in the country.....

Halloween Party I

Thursday, October 20, 2005

A "Different" Kind of Mommy

In preparation for Halloween, I bought Valerie an orange pumpkin t-shirt, a "spooky" black t-shirt, orange leopard print pants and black candy corn pants. As predicted, she loves showing spirit for nearly any special holiday and wore the clothing with much enthusiasm.

Recently, I picked her up from school and asked if her teachers appreciated her Halloween "spirit".

Valerie responded, "Yes, mommy. My teachers really like my Halloween clothes!"

So I prodded, "Do the other children wear Halloween clothes, too?"

Valerie assured me, "No mommy. The other kids' mommies don't let them wear Halloween clothes."

Oh, I thought. Well, too bad for the other kids.

Valerie continued, "See mom, you're a DIFFERENT KIND of mommy."

I couldn't help but ask, "Am I a different GOOD kind of mommy or different BAD kind of mommy?" Did I really want to know the answer to that question? Perhaps I shouldn't have asked.

But, she nodded and rolled her eyes, "Mom, you're a GOOD kind of mommy. I LOVE wearing Halloween outfits!"

Phew!

Thursday, October 13, 2005

The Curse of the School Baby

Dagny's teachers often allow Dagny to bring home a baby from school to "borrow" until the next school day. It's great for the children. I guess one could argue that it helps to teach responsibility. However, this is hell for the parents. Of all the things we parents are supposed to remember, focusing on the whereabouts of another thing, be it a baby doll, is too much pressure. As much as I have discouraged the baby from coming home with Dagny, it still seems to visit our home at least once a week.

On Tuesday, the teachers once again awarded Dagny the responsibility of borrowing the baby. At the time, I noted to the teachers that this particular baby is looking a little crusty, so I would try to launder her if time permitted, prior to the next scheduled class. Apparently, children absorb nearly everything (unless you're asking them to set the table for dinner or to get dressed for school).

Departing Dagny's school with the burdensome baby doll, I drove to the pediatrician for the annual flu shot. I believe this particular baby doll is cursed. Either that, or this doll is gunning for me! This doll is nearly an appendage to Dagny's little body. But, she seems to lose her continuously. I've returned to half a dozen places to retrieve this damn doll. Lately, I tell my girls that their baby dolls and teddy bears must take a nap in the car while we enter various establishments in the San Fernando Valley. I've learned the hard way, that unless I want to make twice as many trips to each establishment retrieving these playthings, it's best to leave them in the car. It's enough being responsible for my children, let alone their toys.

Since we were visiting the doctors office today, and I suspected she might need some extra comfort after her flu immunization, I allowed her to bring the baby doll with her. Further, Dagny insisted that the baby needed a flu shot, too. I tried to keep track of the baby, in addition to my own kids, while trying to keep them entertained as we waited for our turn. As we were leaving and rushing to get home for dinner prior to a major meltdown, I must have lost track of that darn baby again. Getting through rush hour, the so-called part of the evening ritual involving feeding, bathing, reading and going to bed for the kids. At bedtime, Dagny requested that she sleep with her "school" baby. I searched high and low for that thing. I couldn't find her anywhere.

On Wednesday, I called the pediatrician's office. I was sure we left her there. I must have called the receptionist three times on Wednesday. Has the baby turned up yet? No, we haven't seen her, was the repeated response.

I continued to tear my house apart, searching for this dirty doll. Surely, we could afford to replace the doll. But, who wants to waste money on a situation that could have been prevented?

By mid-morning today, I abandoned the search and resumed my daily household responsibilities. I really needed to attend to the build-up of laundry. There were clean clothes still in the dryer from two or three days ago. I opened the door to the dryer. At the top of a mound of wrinkled clean clothes laid the dirty baby doll.

While relieved that I wouldn't have to replace the baby for the preschool, I laughed to myself at how helpful darling Dagny tried to be.

When I dropped Dagny at school this afternoon, I recounted the baby's adventure over the last two days. Surely now, that baby will stay at school.

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

Flu Shot Badge

This morning, I made the time to stand in line for my annual flu shot. Of course, my darling Dagny accompanied me.

When it was my turn, she sat in my lap as quietly and as motionless as a turtle. The nurse asked about her age. Stating that she was almost two and a half, the nurse looked worried and questioned my intention to hold her in my lap while having a needle jammed in my shoulder. I assured the nurse, that Dagny would be fine. Let's just get this business completed.

Dagny intently studied every move the nurse made. Dagny did not make a peep as the nurse opened the needle, filled it full of the immunization, and stuck it into my shoulder. By the end, the nurse was shocked at Dagny's impeccable behavior. While I'd like to take the responsibility for her good conduct, it was really all her. She was just interested in the proceedings.

Later, this afternoon, it was Dagny's turn to get her flu shot. The nurse instructed me to hug Dagny and turn her head away from the needle. Having already seen the procedure on me, she couldn't help but still be interested. The process of the injection took at most 5 seconds. My youngest child did not flinch or scowl. You'd have thought she was watching a mesmerizing circus act. Even the pediatric nurse commented on how she's never seen a child react so calmly to a shot. We agreed, she's a tough kid!

She wore her Band-Aid like a badge. For the rest of the day, any human being we encountered, she pointed to the Band-Aid on her shoulder announcing, "I got a foo shot!"

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

No Sweets Before Dinner

I recently made brownies. After cooking them and cutting them into bite-size pieces, I left them to cool on the stove.

Later, as I prepared dinner, Ken kept me company. I noticed him hanging around the stove area.

At one point the kids joined us in the kitchen. All of a sudden they yelled, "I WANT ONE, TOO!"

I looked up from what I was working on. I thought, what could they possible want or need right before dinner?

Ken guiltily looked at me and showed me his mouth full of brownie crumbs.

So, glaring at him with a little smirk, I said, "Way to set an example for your children, DAD."

He defended himself, "Well, at least everyone knows that I'm going to eat my entire dinner."

Like, they understand.....

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Preschool Transition

After searching high and low for a preschool, I found a program for Dagny that is absolutely wonderful. I just wish I had found it two years ago for Valerie to attend. The school is called Magic Years, and I can confirm that the school is truly magical.

Dagny started school the day after Labor Day. The school takes a transitional approach. At first, one parent is required to stay with their child in the classroom. Over time, as each child becomes more trusting of the incredible teachers, the parent takes potty breaks and visits the "mommy" room where the mom (or occasional dad) can be summoned at any given moment. Then, the parent leaves the "mommy" room to complete short errands. Eventually, the parent is able to leave the child for the full three hour program.

With Valerie, I recall, dropping her off at school. We were literally ripped apart as she screamed and reached for me. Walking me out the door, the teachers scoffed at my misery assuring me that, "She'll be fine once you leave. The faster you leave, the faster she'll recover." I'm not so sure that ever happened. In retrospect, what a mistake Valerie's first school experience was.

I am truly amazed at how wonderful this transition approach is at Dagny's school. I've become a true believer. It took Dagny three weeks to complete the transition. Of course, I can't help but feel mixed emotions that she is fully transitioned. While it's so great that she enjoys school, part of my heart aches that she doesn't NEED me like she once did. But, what is so wonderful about this idea of a first school experience is that it really works: no tears, no separation anxiety, and no fear of abandonment. Why don't more schools do this?

To show you how genuinely happy she is, here's my baby girl waiting to go into school:

Dagny school

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Practice What You Preach

I asked about Valerie's teachers and what their names were.

Me: Valerie, what's the name of the teacher with long blonde hair? You know she's kind of plump.

Valerie: Mommy, you aren't supposed to talk about the way people look!

Nice to know she listened.....

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

The First Day

When I picked Valerie up from school yesterday, I asked what the best thing she did on her first day.

Her response was, "EVERYTHING mommy!"

It was nice to hear such enthusiasm.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Bittersweet Transition

Today marked Valerie's first day at her new school. Many at-home parents happily anticipate "back-to-school" so they can celebrate a few hours of freedom each day. Parents can visit the grocery store without finding mysterious cookies in the shopping basket or debating over which cereal to purchase with their little youngsters. I, too, can admit that accomplishing such daily tasks without the company of my oldest child will make my day run a little more smoothly.

However, I cannot help but feel a little melancholy about my big girl going to school all day. While we filled our summer days with a variety of fun activities, there were so many more things we could have done this summer (not that they would have fit into our schedule).

As part of this morning's rush, I documented my big girl's big day with a photograph:

Transition

You can see below, Valerie's transition to school was pretty tough:

Transition

I feel better that she was busy and happy when I departed instead of her sobbing and me being forced to leave.

In my spare moments, I work on the list of activities for next summer.

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Remembrance

This is what I wrote last year in reference to the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001:

"Three years ago today, I lived in Brooklyn, NY and worked in Manhattan as a money manager. Everyone in Manhattan that day has their own story to tell & I will spare you the details my particular story. However, at the time, I had a 4 month old baby. Had I not been a wife and a mother on 9/11/01, I am certain my life would be very different today. I was absolutely devoted to both my career and to my family. But being a mother certainly made that day unique for me. In the immediate aftermath of the planes crashing into the towers, I do not remember being concerned with myself. My fear was whether or not my husband and I could make it back to our baby girl so she would grow up with at least one of us. My mission that day was for one of us to get home to her. My husband was closest, so he walked home over the Brooklyn Bridge. In the hours that followed & the difficulties encountered in walking home, I was given plenty of time to think. I realized that as a mother and a parent, I am responsible for meeting my children's needs. On 9/11, I was not available to meet my daughter's needs. Yes, I feared for all of our lives, but what struck me was that I was not available when my child possibly needed me most. She needed me to protect her in a potentially threatening situation and I had chosen to be away from her. It was my choice, because my job and career was not a necessity for our family's survival.

"So, after much deliberation, I realized that it was important for me to stay home with my children. I do not want to be away from them during a time of crisis again. Now, there are plenty of days (esp potty training) when I think it is much easier to negotiate with adults than children. What am I DOING as a full-time parent? There are plenty of days when my former colleagues call me, hear me talking to my young children, and ask me why I gave up so much to just stay home. There are plenty of other mothers (e.g. the crazy working mom on Dr. Phil a week ago) who think that I am wasting myself. However, there is NO time that I regret my decision to be with my children. We all make our own choices and I am very respectful of everyone's decision. I just wish that our society could be more respectful of every mother's situation, whether they have a choice or not.

"I wish you all much peace on this day of remembrance."

Last night I watched an HBO documentary featuring former Mayor Rudolf Giuliani. I sobbed uncontrollably at various parts of the film. Yet, I could not pry my eyes from the television screen.

At one point, Giuliani says, "...through our tears, we grow stronger...."

And we do. It's important to remember. It's important to remember why we choose to do the things we do. And most importantly, it's important to appreciate all that we have.

Saturday, September 10, 2005

Appearances

Recently, the girls and I ran an errand to Target or the supermarket or somewhere. With my brain, it's hard to remember where we were exactly. I just recall the moment we checked out with the cashier.

As we faced the clerk, a rather large man passed through the next check-out line. Valerie's eyes grew large and her mouth fell open. Her thoughts spewed out of her mouth, "Mommy, that man is SOOOO BIG!"

I cringed. Of course, everyone knows that young children say things like this. Parents try to anticipate such embarrassing moments by discussing manners at less embarrassing moments. Despite the awkwardness of the moment, I opportunistically used the moment for educational purposes.

I agree, it was a fact that the man was large. Some people would note positively that my daughter was speaking the truth.

However, in that split second, I stated in a normal voice, "Honey, in our culture we do not discuss people's appearances. It's just not nice." Then, I let it go.

It seems, many adults in our society have not learned this lesson in our society. I remember during my pregnancies the incessant questions and comments of a couple of grown-ups: "How much WEIGHT have you gained?" "You're looking awfully rotund!" "You shouldn't eat that (string cheese and a granola bar) because you'll get FAT!" Typically, I am a petite woman. When I heard these comments, my feeling were interminably hurt and the relationships are probably irreparable. But then, my hormones raged during those nine months and I was certainly oversensitive. Regardless, I will never forget the insensitivity of the comments. In our culture, it is just plain rude to comment on the way others look.

Once in the car, I asked Valerie, "How would you feel if I told you that you looked too big?"

Valerie: Bad

Me: How would you feel if I said that you looked too small or skinny?

Valerie: Sad

Me: How do you think that man felt when he heard you say that he was "SOOOO BIG"?

Valerie: He felt bad.

Me: Maybe you should keep thoughts about the way others look to yourself. I feel really bad for that man right now.

And by the look on her face, she felt bad, too.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm speaking to a brick wall. I just hope that if I repeat myself enough, something might sink into my daughters' heads.

Friday, September 9, 2005

Hurricane Relief

For anyone looking to donate something other than money check out this donations clearinghouse.

The intent is to establish direct connections between those with things to donate and the people who need them.

Wednesday, September 7, 2005

Dreaming For A Pony

At yesterday's play-date, Valerie came face-to-face with a canine. Despite the four-legged creature being rather older and quite gentle, she was immensely displeased to share oxygen with the pooch. In fact, her face revealed signs of utter terror.

During the normal dinner-time discussion recounting the various activities of each family member's day, we discussed Valerie's play-date. The issue of the fearful dog came up.

Daddy: Why didn't you like the dog, Valerie?

Valerie: It was big and mean! (Turns out the dog is a bit of a groaner.)

Daddy: What would you think if we get a dog here?

Valerie: I don't want a dog. (The desire changes weekly.)

Daddy: If we got a dog, we would get a baby dog, a puppy at first, who would grow big over time.

Valerie: I don't want a dog.

Daddy: Why not?

Valerie: I want a pony!

Pause

Mommy: (chiming in) You can get a pony when you grow up and get a job and can pay for it yourself.

Daddy: Yeah, it turn out your mom and I aren't really horse people.

Why do so many little girls dream of owning a pony when they are little? I guess it's good to dream big.....

Tuesday, September 6, 2005

Soccer Kid

Today, we bought shin guards and cleats for Valerie's first year of soccer. Despite the first practice and game being this Saturday, she insisted on testing out the new ensemble...

soccer kid

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

This Little Piggy

A day without a boo-boo is rare in our family.

As you know, when one kid contracts a boo-boo, the other develops a sympathy boo-boo.

Today, Valerie had a small cut on her finger. As expected, Dagny demanded a Band-Aid to cover her sympathy boo-boo.

I asked her where the boo-boo might be located to accurately cover the sympathetic cut.

She sweetly proclaimed, "I need a Band-Aid on this little piggy!" and proceeded to stick her left index finger in my face.

Moments like these get me by....

Sunday, August 28, 2005

Build-A-Bear

Evidence of our attendance at a today's Build-A-Bear birthday party:

Build A Bear

Apparently, my children will not only be eating and sleeping with their new bears, but Dagny plans to potty-train her bear. He's already tried on her pull-ups.

Excuse me, I stand corrected. Valerie's bear isn't just a bear. It's a Koala Bear.

Duh!

Saturday, August 27, 2005

Hug Rations

I have imposed hug rations in our house at bed time. It sounds wicked, but I've put my foot down.

Of late, I put the girls to bed and it usually goes smoothly. The girls get a bath, brush their teeth, brush their hair and read stories. They climb into their beds and I dim the lights. Then the trouble begins.

Hugs and kisses for everyone. Just as I start to leave, someone will call out, "Mommy, I need one more hug!"

Not to be outdone, the other child sweetly calls out, "One more hug for me too!"

So, I embellish them. I think, it's not like kids can have too many hugs & kisses, right? I love the affection just as much as they do. After the fifth time, I get wise to their strategy. Clearly, they are stalling. If I were more agreeable, they could do this all night.

I announce, "You each get only ONE more hug and ONE more kiss tonight. Then, I have to go downstairs and do my own work. I promise to kiss you and hug you more tomorrow. But this is IT! Understood?"

They giggle and squeak out a "yes". They each get their turn and I leave the room.

They protest, but I stick to my guns. Hiding my smiles, I promise more hugs and kisses tomorrow.

When I reach the family room, Ken laughs at me, "What are you rationing hugs now?"

I retort, "What would you do, smarty pants?"

And we realize their affinity for affection will be short-lived. Too soon, we will be just dumb ol' mom and dad.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Old Mama

For whatever reason, Valerie claimed today that she was a "new girl." I don't remember the exact context of the claim, but she asserts that she is definitely a "new girl."

Me: So what makes you a new girl?

Valerie: Because I'm a cute little girl. And you're an OLD MAMA!

Me: So what does that make Grandma?

Valerie: (silence)

Boy, that sure was a kick in the gut....

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Blame

We were at swimming lessons. Valerie followed directions kicking and paddling in the pool. Dagny played in the little play yard. I quietly kept one eye on each child, somehow without going cross-eyed.

As Dagny opened the gate to the play yard, she bonked her head. Tears sprang to her eyes and she ran into my arms for comfort. She cried, "Mommy, Vaa-ree hit me!"

It was an "Ah-ha!" moment. I'm onto you, kid... Valerie was no where near you, honey.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Bodily Behaviors

Sitting on the ground, Dagny gleefully announced, "I tooted!"

I nodded, having witnessed the bodily function.

"Mommy, I tooted!"

"Yes, honey, you tooted. What do you say?"

"Thank you!"

Not exactly, but she could be thanking us for holding our breath...

Sunday, August 21, 2005

Eating Lunch

At lunch, Valerie chose Dora the Explorer Campbell's soup.

After two bites, she announced she was finished, but needed a cookie to complete the meal. As most mothers in my predicament, I suggested she eat more of her lunch first. Then, she could have a cookie.

She responded, "How about I eat ten more bites, then I get a cookie! How about I eat ten BIG bites?"

Don't you love it when things just go in your favor? "Well, I guess ten bites is okay.... Maybe you should shoot for eleven bites?"

Saturday, August 20, 2005

Stalking Moon

Last night, I took Valerie to a dinner playdate with a future classmate to get the acquainted prior to the start of school.

On the way home, it was dark. A beautiful, big moon hung above the horizon.

We quietly drove. Half-way home I assumed Valerie had fallen asleep. But, she quietly asked, "Why is the moon following us?"

On the one hand I considered getting into the Big Bang Theory. Instead I answered, "Honey, there is one moon and everyone on earth sees the same moon. Your cousin Abby sees the same moon we see."

"Why?"

Better question, why to I keep setting myself up for these imploring questions?

I responded, "Well, let's ask daddy when we get home!"

Whether Ken answers any of the questions his children ask or not, I'm setting him up to be the smartest man on earth by encouraging my children to believe he knows everything.

Friday, August 19, 2005

To Companize

Meaning: To keep someone company.

Example: Changing Dagny's diaper before taking a nap, Valerie offered, "Mommy, do you want me to companize Dagny while you change her diaper?"

Not only is she being a great big sister, she's adding words to the dictionary.

Sounded good to me! Maybe I'll start using the word, too!

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Girlie Girl

Today, Valerie knew she had to wear the color blue to camp for the annual "color war" theme of the day. We discussed each piece of blue clothing she owns.

I suggested she wear her jeans. Hers happen to be blue jeans.

Boy, did I get an earful.

"Mom, jeans are boys clothes. Girls wear skirts and dresses!"

Oh, well, some girls wear jeans, right?

"Mom, girls aren't supposed to wear jeans even though some do."

Oh, okay. So, do you know any boys who wear skirts and dresses?

"Mom, of course boys don't wear skirts and dresses. Those are GIRL clothes!"

Thanks for the distinction, honey.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Grovel for Gravel

I realize that some rocks in the world are precious. Some are worth a lot of money. Some are pretty and sparkly. However, what could be so special about gravel? Isn't gravel just useless rock fragments and pebbles used as a cheaper alternative to pavement?

At swimming lessons, part of the parking area is covered in gravel. There are man-made painted orange lines showing cars where to park. As a result, some of these rocks are colored orange on one side. My children are obsessed by the gravel at swimming lessons. For both of them, picking out their precious rocks seems to be the highlight of the swim lesson experience.

Upon arrival, they hussle out of the car to seize their precious stones. I eventually coax them toward the swim instructors back yard where the pool awaits. As Valerie shyly edges toward the pool, she makes me swear, nearly on my life, that I will save her special piece of the earth's crust until she can retrieve it upon completion of her lesson. I oblige.

Meanwhile, Dagny spends the swim lesson stalking the gravel. She compares and contrasts nothing less than 20 pieces of gravel in a thirty minute period. This one is bigger, that one looks like a fish, and this one is cool. She attempts to keep as many pieces of gravel as her little mitts can carry. If I offered her a bucket, she's start hauling the dirty white rock fragments home to place inside her toy-box containing assorted prized possessions.

After the swim lesson, we head to the car. The girls squat by the side of the car gathering as many rocks as possible to haul home. I inform my offspring that we have to leave rocks for the other kids, too. Each child only gets one rock. I mean really, if we take all the rocks, where will the cars park? Where will the other kids find rocks (knowing full well gravel is everywhere)?

They look up at me silently and I know they are thinking, "Who cares about the other kids? They can find their own rocks!"

The ride home is full of conversation and descriptions of their gravel.

If this keeps ups, their future husbands will save a lot of money offering them gravel engagement rings, painted orange on one side. Maybe I am doing someone a favor by allowing them to steal our swim instructors gravel.

PT Status Report

On occasion, I admit to my mistakes.

Maybe now it's time to admit defeat....

After two days of potty training, Dagny's had only one success in the potty.

I'm tired of wet panties. Therefore, I'm tired of laundry, too.

The incentive is one jelly bean for pee-pee in her little potty, two jelly beans for poopy in her little potty. She fully understands the incentives.

Now, to get her to fully understand her potty needs. I think the problem is that she's just a busy, busy kid!

Monday, August 15, 2005

Love you...

For the life of me, I can't remember what I was doing to deserve this....

But, I was doing something to occupy my mind and my hands. I looked down to see Dagny tugging my hand down so I could squat to her level. She announced, "I hug you" causing me to open my arms.

Upon jumping in my arms and sweetly hugging me, she declared, " I wuv you!"

And my heart melted.

Friday, August 12, 2005

Happy Homecoming

We returned from our vacation. Coming home is usually the best part of any trip, I've decided. I think I only started feeling this way after having children and being forced to check my luggage on airplanes.

Upon arriving home, Dagny decided to be in her birthday suit from the waist-down. After about a half hour of the cool air hitting her rump, Dagny informed me she needed to go poopy. So, I picked her up and ran her to her little potty chair. Within a few minutes, she left a nice surprise in the potty bowl! Woo hoo!

She did this entirely on her own.

So, who was it that told me children should never be potty-trained before the age of three? Just goes to show that each kid does it on their own time. Apparently, just because someone is a parent, doesn't make him/her an expert on all children. We all do the best we can.

Seems like she's READY to rid herself of those dreadful diapers.

Get set!

Let's go!

What a nice homecoming present, eh?

Monday, August 1, 2005

Go! Go! Go!

I took a blog hiatus last month. I guess summer does that to "at-home" moms. Even though Valerie has spent some time at camp, Dagny seems to require much more attention of late.

For example, if we spend more than a couple of hours at the house, as I try to put away groceries, do laundry, or other typical household chores, Dagny will reach her breaking point awfully quickly. See, after an hour or so of doing what she views as "nothing" she grows bored. Independently, she will open the door to the garage, stand by the car-door near her carseat and scream, "Go! Go! Go! Go!" until I physically place her in the car and drive somewhere. I've gone so far as to drive around the block. But pulling back into the driveway, she immediately returns to her tirade. There's no tricking this child....

Thank goodness Dagny has been accepted into a preschool program starting in September. Apparently, I'm not a very good entertainer unless I chauffeur her to an off-site location. September 6th is the date of blast-off. We've started to countdown... Just 35 more days and the teachers can entertain her twice a week for a few days...

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

If It Looks Like Chicken....

While not officially attempting to potty train yet, Dagny has become quite interested in bathroom and potty activities of late. In general, mothers lack privacy the moment they give birth. Maybe when the kids go to college, privacy will return for most of us.

Going to the bathroom today with the door wide open, Dagny sauntered in and asked what I was doing.

Me: Well, what does it look like I'm doing?

Dagny: Going pee-pee! (stated proudly)

Me: Good guess. I'm going poopy. (offering her the words needed to describe her own bodily functions)

She ran around to the side of the potty and shouted, "I wanna see. I wanna see!"

After peering over the side, she shouted, "CHICKEN! MOMMY, LOOK CHICKEN!"

Oddly enough, we ate meat-loaf last night......

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Monkeys Jumping on the Bed

A few weeks ago, my girls started this bad habit of jumping on their beds. To absolutely no avail, I have tried to discourage this extremely dangerous exercise, largely because bed-jumping is the reason why most kids end up with a broken limb at the closest emergency room.

Last night, we put the girls to bed as usual. Within a few moments, we could hear the springs squeaking. Instead of running upstairs to attempt altering their behavior, I thought, "They'll get tired of it soon and eventually fall asleep." Let's just say, my motherly instinct was completely off-base this time. We all have bad days, right?

At 8:25pm, the creaking mattress spring suddenly halted. Then we heard a piercing scream from Dagny. At the same moment, Valerie panicked and screamed, "MOMMY, DADDY COME QUICK. DAGNY IS HURT. HELP! HELP! HELP!"

What felt like slow motion, Ken and I ran through the kitchen, up the stairs and through the hallway to their bedroom. I found Dagny screaming while sitting on her bed. Her hands drenched in blood, covered her nose and mouth. As parents, we wanted to do anything to take away her pain and to stop the blood. We offered cold cloths and ice to reduce the swelling.

Apparently, little Dagny jumped right into the headboard and smashed her face. By 10pm, the house was quiet and the kids were asleep. All night, I feared her nose was broken.

Fortunately, this morning, she looks better. Her nose is a little swollen and tender, but she is not black and blue. A couple of times, her nose has dripped a drop or two of blood, but she seems in pretty good spirits.

For those who allow their children and grandchildren to jump on the bed, I hate to say, "I told you so", but really it's not acceptable to teach children how to jump on beds. Our job is to protect them - not to teach them how to permanently maim and disfigure themselves.

I am just so thankful that she only hurt her nose and did not break a limb. Hopefully, this will be the last time they jump on the beds. I explained to Valerie that anyone who jumps on the bed in our house or who encourages jumping on the bed under our roof will sleep in the garage without bed privileges until further notice!

As the doctor says, "That's what you get for jumping on the bed."

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Happy Camper

Today marked Valerie's first day of camp at her new school. I left her at the school this morning feeling a little apprehensive. The place seemed completely chaotic - kids, counselors and parents just milling about. I feared there would be little organization to the day.

Fortunately, I stayed long enough to see that Valerie was assigned to a particular group. She trotted off with her counselors and I still had an uneasy feeling.

The day passed very slowly. I watched the clock tick and waiting by the phone, expecting them to call me to inform me of her difficulty adjusting.

The only noise in the house besides Dagny and myself was the ticking of the clock.

As the time neared for me to fetch her from camp, I grew anxious. We had enjoyed such a nice day yesterday at the museum and I missed her so much. Surely she had missed me too!

As I drove through the carpool lane, I viewed her smiling through the rearview mirror, happily ambling toward the car with her counselor.

Once she was settled in her car-seat, I asked, "How was your day? Did you have fun?"

Valerie: Yes, mommy. Camp is SO fun! (with an ear-to-ear grin)

Me: Great. What did you do that was so fun?

Valerie: I don't know.

Me: Did you make new friends?

Valerie: Yes (still beaming)

Me: What are their names?

Valerie: I don't know.

Me: What are your counselors' names?

Valerie: I don't know.

Me: Did you go swimming at camp?

Valerie: I don't know.

Me: But, you had fun at camp right?

Valerie: Yes - I LOVE CAMP! Can I go again tomorrow?

I have no idea what happened at camp today, but I do know that I reside with a truly happy camper!

Monday, June 20, 2005

Stinky Dinosaurs

We went to the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County today. The purpose of the visit was to see the Pavilion of Wings exhibit. The butterflies were a hit with the girls.

Butterflies

We enjoyed viewing the dinosaur bones, the sparkling rocks, the stuffed mammals and visiting the interactive Discovery Center. Valerie even pet a California kingsnake named Oreo. Dagny made me carry her through the dinosaur exhibit when she panicked realizing the immensity of these former beasts.

Prior to this morning's visit, I explained a little about our trip to mentally prepare my offspring.

Me: We are going to a museum today to see butterflies. There will also be big dinosaurs at the museum.

Valerie: Are they alive?

Me: No, not anymore. We will see the dinosaur skeletons because these animals are now extinct.

Valerie: (pausing) Why do they stink?

Me: (giggling) Honey, they don't smell. Extinct means that the dinosaurs are no longer living. It means the whole species has died out and no longer live here with us. But the words stink and extinct sound alike right? Can you say extinct?

Valerie: No. I think I want to only see the butterflies.

Sunday, June 19, 2005

The Gift of Father's Day

In the US, the person who decided to take time to celebrate fatherhood and motherhood had to be a woman. Really, whoever came up with these special days, often marked as Hallmark holidays, was truly a genius.

Mother's Day is a time for mothers in this country to celebrate their motherhood ALONE. Yes, it's great to send the kiddies off with the daddies and say, "Mommy needs a break".

Father's Day, too, I now realize, is a time for daddies to spend time with their kiddies too.

So, thanks Kenny for letting me get so much done today without having to referee the girls. Hope you enjoyed your time as the involved dad that you are.

Friday, June 17, 2005

Aspirations for a Brother

As we drove to school today, the conversation turned to brothers and sisters.

Valerie announced: My friend Stephanie has a big brother. I want one too.

Me: Well, it's doubtful that you'll have a big brother or little brother at this point. Your daddy and I have decided that we're happy with just two kids - you and your sister.

Valerie: But, I WANT a brother....

Me: Sorry. Maybe you can borrow your friend's brother until you get tired of him. Or better yet, why don't you pretend you have a brother.

Valerie: (excited) When I grow up, I'm going to be a brother.

Me: How are you going to do that? You're a sister. Once you're a sister, you're kind of stuck - you don't have any options or choice in the matter.

Valerie: It's okay mommy, I'm going to be a brother when I grow up.

Me: Maybe you could dress up as a brother for Halloween. Try that first. Later, you can decide if you want to be a brother when you grow up.

The conversation reminded me of my own disjointed assumptions as a little girl living on 48th Street in Des Moines, IA. I clearly remember straddling the potty. I had to practice going potty like a boy so that I would be ready to "turn into a boy" on my seventh birthday.

How do kids come up with this stuff?

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Hang Time

The latest and greatest weight-lifting program:

Hang Time

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

A Proud Moment

Two years ago, a few weeks after Dagny's birth, I specifically recall the girls waking up for the day at the exact same moment. Upon hearing the children stir over the baby monitors, I swiftly gathered up Dagny from her crib and entered Valerie's room.

Valerie's face fell the moment I opened her bedroom door. She screamed at me holding her sister, "Baby, back to bed! Baby, back to bed!" I think those were the first words she uttered toward her sister since bringing the newborn home from the hospital.

In the last two years, Ken and I have worked hard to create a bond between the two girls and to teach compassion toward other people. As any siblings, they have their battles and their bonding moments.

This morning at the breakfast table, I looked over from my position at the sink to see that Valerie had opened Dagny's juice box without anyone making such a request. Valerie not only opened her sister's juice box, but opened her sister's juice first. Valerie offered this help to her sister completely out of the blue without a single prompt from mother or sister. My heart swelled with pride at the thoughtful and considerate behavior my eldest daughter displayed.

Two years ago, dealing with a self-centered only child, the outlook for teaching compassion seemed bleak. For some reason, viewing this small demonstration of kindness today reminded me of how far we've come. Of course, we have a long journey ahead, but it was truly wonderful to mark the moment and see that Ken and my teachings of compassion are not being entirely ignored.

It's moments like these that make motherhood a rewarding experience!

Monday, June 13, 2005

In the Summer Time

When recounting a memory, Valerie is apt to begin the story with, "In the summer time, ...."

For example, "In the summer time, we ate watermelon." I may not recall the particular moment of consumption, but most likely, this occurred at some point last summer.

Or, "Remember when I took swimming lessons in the summer time?" Why yes, of course, I remember.

Whether a particular event happened a year ago, a month ago, a week ago, or even just yesterday, Valerie often begins the story with the phrase "In the summertime, ...."

In describing another flashback, Valerie might say, "Daddy, in the summer time, I saw Santa Claus." Um, yes, we went to the mall to visit Santa Claus, but that was during the winter time just before Christmas.

Recently, "Mommy, remember when you came to visit my school to celebrate mother's day in the summer time?" Well, last month, I came to your class to celebrate mother's day and that was in the spring time.

Or even, "In the summertime, last week, Stephanie came to play at my house."

Perhaps the confusion of time stems from the warm southern California climate to which we have become accustomed. Or perhaps, the confusion of seasons and timing relates to the failure for most preschoolers to comprehend time in general.

Wednesday, June 8, 2005

The Ear Ache

Today marked the second morning Valerie awoke with an ear ache. (At least I hope it was only the second morning. My days tend to run together.) Making a mental note of the complaint, I helped the kids get dressed, teeth brushed, hair combed and tummies fed.

My most insightful moments often occur while driving the car. As I returned to pick Valerie up from school, I remembered I should probably call the doctor to schedule an immediate a sick visit to check Valerie's ear. I would hate for her hearing to be negatively impaired from an ear infection. So, off we tromped to the pediatrician's office.

Arriving at the doctor's office, the nurse began by asking, "So how can we help you today?"

To which I responded, "Valerie, can you tell the nurse why we came for a visit?"

Valerie shrugged her shoulders and smiled shyly with that childlike blank stare, "I dunno."

Me: Do you have any aches or pains today? (thinking, I must look like an idiot parent, but I don't want to always respond on behalf of my kids as though they are mutes)

Valerie: Ummmmmm - maybe because of my ear? (Right on, sister!)

Me: Does your ear still hurt? (or did I drive us here to appear like the resident nutcase?)

Valerie: I think so.

Me: Can you tell us which ear hurts? (hoping she would pick the same one as earlier)

Valerie: I dunno.

Pause

Valerie: I think it's this one? (pointing to the left ear)

Me: (Phew, at least she was consistent!)

As we waited twenty minutes for the doctor to arrive and check the ailing ear, I wondered if I jumped too quickly by making the doctor appointment after only two days of complaints. Valerie has not had a fever yet. She has cried "wolf" enough times in our four year tenure together that it might be possible she just awoke on the wrong side of the bed again this morning.

As the doctor ambled into the examining room and thoroughly checked out Valerie's medical condition, I worried that I wasted the physician's time. Am I one of those overly cautious parents that just likes to waste doctor's time? Whatever the pediatrician diagnoses is going to have a pro and a con: either she's sick (bad) and I was right (good) or I was wrong (bad) and she's well (good).

The doctor determined that, in fact, Valerie has an ear infection and needs to start antibiotics. On the bright side, I am glad I followed my intuition and was not exposed as a lunatic.

Unfortunately, getting her to ingest the prescribed thick and chalky antibiotics is the worst part of the diagnosis.

Maybe tomorrow, I can hope that for improvements in the taste!?!?! Or my stunted brain cells will discover a creative antibiotic recipe to serve.

Tuesday, June 7, 2005

Starting with "S"

This morning, Valerie announced, "I want my name to start with an 'S' like my friend Stephanie. Why doesn't my name start with 'S'?"

Me: Are you sure you want your name to start with S?

Valerie: Yes.

Me: Do you want to change your name to Sarah or Sabrina or Samantha? Those names start with the letter "S".

Valerie: No, I want my name to be Valerie with an "S".

Me: Okay, should I call you Salerie from now on?

Valerie: No, my name is VALERIE!

Me: Great, I like the name Valerie, too. But Valerie starts with the letter "V".

Valerie: NOOOOO, I want my name to start with "S".

Me: Well, as soon as you can figure out how to accomplish that, let me know.

Monday, June 6, 2005

Juice

Having run out of 4-oz Juicy Juice boxes that the kids drink for breakfast this morning, I poured each of them small cups of my beverage of choice, Tropicana orange juice.

Over the last few days, the girls claim to love my daily serving of orange juice and fight over who gets to drink from my cup first. Since becoming a mother, there is no such thing as my having personal belongings. As the saying goes, "What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine." So true, in our household.

Sitting at the breakfast table, they each scrunched their nose at their personal cups full of orange juice.

Dagny stated, "Don't like it!"

Valerie claimed, "This doesn't taste good, mom!"

I offered, "Do you want to drink my orange juice instead?"

In unison, "YES! Your orange juice is better!"

So, I drank their cups in exchange for their sharing my glass.

After a few minutes, I interjected, "Do you realize that each cup of juice came from the same juice container? We're all drinking the SAME juice - just in different cups."

No response - they just looked at me and smiled.

Ain't that something to ponder....

Wednesday, June 1, 2005

Drawing Straws

With Ken traveling again, the girls are up to their usual antics: fighting over any toy the other one decides she likes. This evening, the toy of choice was the Fisher Price Little People School Bus.

As they squabbled, it was a textbook girl fight including hair-pulling and skin scratching. I intervened to avoid the fangs leaving marks. My solution du jour was drawing straws.

I explained, "See this toothpick? I am going to break it into two pieces. One piece is short and the other is long. If you pick the long straw, you get to play with the bus first for five minutes. If you choose the short straw, you will play with the bus second - after the timer buzzes in five minutes. Understand?"

Smiling with the excitement of a new game, their heads bobbed affirmatively. I knew this would be a short-lived, fun game as the one who drew the short straw would fuss that about life not being fair.

Valerie chose her straw first, since she seemed to fully understood the game. Dagny just followed suit because she tends to go with the flow. Ewe... she drew the short straw, but she didn't know it yet.

Then it was Dagny's turn. We compared the two straws, noting that Dagny received the first opportunity to play with the bus. As Valerie complained that drawing straws isn't a very fun game, I set the timer and continued stacking the dinner dishes. The complaining died down and the timer rang five minutes later.

"Valerie it's your turn to play with the bus!" I shouted.

"Oh, I already played with it!"

Go figure!

I guess the other alternatives are to buy two of everything to avoid these fights. Or, we could separate and label all of the household toys into what belongs to Valerie and what belongs to Dagny. However, to me those alternatives just seem like the easy way out. As parents, aren't we supposed to teach our children out to interact with others? If they don't learn how to negotiate with their siblings and family members, the world will eat them alive, eh?

So, we'll stick to taking turns and drawing straws until I can come up with a better solution.

Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Protecting the Gift

Having grown up in a fairly safe environment in Iowa, as a young adult I was unaware the degree to which nefarious people inhabit this earth. It took living in New York City along with my midwestern cognitive education to become acquainted with what atrocious crimes people are capable and willing to commit against humanity. Maybe it's to a fault, but I have learned to trust my instincts when I encounter questionable circumstances. Furthermore, now that I am a mother, my first and foremost purpose in life is to protect my children from harm's way. My own mother describes me as a mama bear protecting her cubs.

I try to be extra aware of my surroundings when we are out and about town (which is usually daily unless there is an illness), especially when with the kids. At the grocery store today, a homeless-looking woman snuck up behind me as I pulled Dagny out of her car-seat. She asked me for five dollars. My immediate reaction was, "No! I don't carry cash with me." And I quickly walked to the entrance of the grocery store. Maybe my internal alarm bells rang because I am out of practice encountering those with mental and physical problems openly on the street in my current neighborhood. Perhaps, I just don't like to have strangers approach me quickly and quietly from behind. Either way, my instinct was to get my child to a safe place immediately.

As I paid for our groceries, the cashier asked if I needed assistance loading the car. I hesitated but declined; however, I mentioned the panhandler situation to her. I exited the store, searched the parking lot for the begging woman and noticed that she was two rows away. In my head, I had plenty of time to dump the groceries in the back end of the car, plop Dagny in her car-seat and get myself buckled into the car and the car doors locked before the woman could approach us again. That plan turned out to be overly optimistic. Before I could throw two grocery bags into the back of the car, the panhandler quickly darted our way. This time, without hesitation, I closed the car, grabbed the grocery cart with Dagny still sitting there and headed for the entrance of the store.

As I rushed back into the store to ask for assistance loading my car, I wondering why I was so alarmed. I imagined that this unknown panhandler would pull out a concealed weapon and threaten my daughter. Perhaps I have seen too many Hollywood action flicks. My fear could have been entirely irrational, but I was not willing to take a chance. Most likely, if I were on a solo trip to the grocery store, I would have felt no anxiety and only considered it odd that someone was begging for money at the grocery store for the first time in two years.

At the time, I felt bad about my reaction to this woman. Clearly, she needed help due to her mental and physical state. I feel bad about the way I treated her, but I surely don't feel bad about my decision to protect my child. In fact, if the same situation arises tomorrow, I will react similarly.

Recently, a friend told me that she had been molested by her grandfather during her childhood. When she told her parents, they chose not to believe her. I want to be a parent who protects my children from ALL harmful situations. I want to be a parent who is an advocate for my children and possible future grandchildren. I think in order to successfully protect my offspring, I will need to trust my instincts and believe what my children tell me. If I do not listen to my kids, who will?

One of the major atrocities of this country is that the government and American adult voters continue to cut funding for youth programs in favor of the elderly. I wish more parents and grandparents would stand up and vote for the future instead of short-term solutions for selfish gain. My childhood was a wonderful time. I would like my children to have an opportunity to have a better life than I have had. If parents and grandparents worried less about what their "due" is and focused more on the potential for the future, our world would be a much better place. Why not try to leave this world a better one than when you entered it?

Monday, May 30, 2005

Dinner Commentator

I try for an average dinner plate in our home to resemble the new and improved food pyramid. I agree, it's not perfect, but I try to include protein, vegetables, dairy and a grain.

Of late, a food moderator has joined the family dinner table.

If Dagny notices that someone finishes his/her serving of a food group, she will be the first to point and joyfully announce, "Done, done, done, done, done, done, done, done."

If one is in the middle of a conversation and does not properly acknowledge the moderator, said moderator, increases the volume of her voice, "DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE!!" until someone responds, "Yes, I have finished my vegetables."

So, we continue with the meal, until the next food group on a fellow dinner companion's plate disappears, "Done, done done done done done done done."

"Yes Dagny, Valerie finished her macaroni and cheese. Are you finished?"

"No."

"Okay, eat some more of your vegetables!"

Eventually, either Ken or I will finish our dinner plates, "Done done done done done done done. DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE!"

"Yes Dagny, Daddy finished his dinner. Are you finished?"

"No."

"Okay, let's see if you will be part of the clean plate club tonight."

And the meal continues until Dagny finds another opportunity to point and shout, "Done done done done done done done. DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE."

Please do not be surprised if Ken and I begin to respond with one word answers in your future presence.

Sunday, May 29, 2005

Stand By Me

This morning I overheard Valerie asking, "Dagny are you going poopy?"

Dagny replied, "Yeah."

Valerie nicely inquired, "Then do you want me to stand next to you until you're done?"

Dagny, "Yeah."

And I thought of the lyrics to Ben E. King's song:

When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we see
No, I won't be afraid
Oh, I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand
Stand by me, so

*Darling darling stand by me
Oh, stand by me
Oh stand, stand by me, stand by me
If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
Ot the mountain
Should crumble to the sea
I won't cry, I won't cry
No, I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand
Stand by me, and
(Repeat * 2 times)

Whenever you're in trouble
Won't you stand by me, oh stand by me

Saturday, May 28, 2005

Elmo's Coloring Book

Proof that we attended Sesame Street Live in the morning.....

elmo concert

Valerie termed the event as "The Elmo Concert"

Dagny termed the event as "Elmo's World"

They each opted to purchase a $12 Zoe doll to commemorate the concert. Fortunately, the Zoe doll appears to have made it into the ranks of a "useful" toy, instead of being cast aside like the Wiggles flashlights purchased a month or so ago!

Friday, May 27, 2005

Human Car Wash

An enjoyable activity to start out the long weekend....

car wash

Thursday, May 26, 2005

I do it!

This is Dagny's favorite phrase, of late.

Do you want help eating that yogurt?

No, I do it!

Can I buckle you into your carseat?

No, I do it!

Want some cereal?

No, I do it!

How about I help clean up the dripping ice cream from your mouth, hands, shirt and floor.

No, I do it!

Do you need help putting on your shoes?

No, I do it!

But, you are putting the wrong shoe on the wrong foot, honey.

I do it!

Okay, you do it. But, if you need help holler.

I do it!

You did a great job putting the wrong shoe on the wrong foot. You need to switch the shoes to the opposite foot.

I do it!

(Pause) AUAUAUAUAUAUEEEEEEEEEEE! HEP HEP HEP!

Do you want to switch the shoes to the correct foot?

Yeah! I DO IT!

Okay, whatever.... you do it.

and finally, the shoes made it onto the correct foot!

And I imagine a Nike commercial for tot shoes.....

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

A Bug

Anything that remotely resembles an insect receives the following treatment from Dagny:

She starts by running to find mommy or daddy. Then she points and shouts, "A bug, a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug."

She pauses for a breath allowing a parent to interject, "Where is the bug Dagny?"

Running toward the object, she continues, "Over dar. A bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a but a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug."

Gulp of air.

"A bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug."

Arriving at the offensive substance, one might conclude, "Oh, that's not a bug Dagny, that is a smashed raisin" or "Oh that's not a bug, it's a dried up leaf."

Nevertheless, she will glance sideways, point and shout, "EWEWEWEWEWEWEWE, a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug."

So, it's best to just agree and say, "Yep that's a bug."

To which, Dagny will mostly likely respond, "EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWE, a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug a bug....."

Rock 'n Roll

In the car on the way to school today, we tuned into Jack FM.

I can't tell you what song was playing, but Valerie excitedly declared, "Miss Anne played this song for us at school!"

Explaining further, "Mommy, it's called Rock 'n Roll!"

Oh, so THAT'S what this song is!

"And I'm going to play the guitar when I grow up!"

Okay.... we'll take one step at a time here..... cross our fingers and hope for the best, eh?

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Magic Mountain

Today, we went to Magic Mountain. The kids had a blast! Here are some photos....

That's my speed: the carousel!

Magic Mountain

High in the sky

Magic Mountain

Showing off the loot....

Magic Mountain

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Where goats go?

Yesterday, Dagny and I visited our millionth preschool within a five mile radius. At this particular school, the children are lucky enough to play in a yard next to two goats.

As we finished the visit and attempted to say good-bye to the preschool director, Dagny asked, "Where goats go?"

Honey, they are sleeping. Again, thank you Mrs. X for your time, today.

Where goats go?

They are sleeping. Could I trouble you to get the paperwork necessary to enroll my daughter in your school?

Where goats to?

They are still sleeping, Dagny. Well, we better be on our way. Thanks again, Mrs. X for your time.

Where goats go?

They are STILL sleeping. We need to go pick up your sister. Let's go to the car.

Where goats go?

Sleeping. Can you get into the car?

Where goats go?

Do you want a snack?

Where goat go?

SLEEPING. Do you want some water?

Where goats go?

What do you want for lunch?

Where goats go?

They are sleeping, my dear. Do you want to listen to the radio or to your CD?

Where goats go?

She asked no less than 20 more times, "Where goats go?" Finally, we arrived at Valerie's school to pick her up.

(Again) Where goats go?

THE GOATS ARE SLEEPING. Now, let's go get Valerie.

(Asking Valerie's teacher) Where goats go?

The teacher replied, "The goats are on the farm!"

Oh.... okay. I hungry!

(Duh... like I should have known that was the response she needed!)

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Practice Makes Perfect

Getting ready for the bath tonight, Valerie said "Mommy, I need to take ALL of my barbies in the bathtub with me so that I can practice being a mommy. Is that okay?"

How could I say no? So, I spent ten minutes squirting out the water from each of the six barbies and independently dried them off. If I were not so meticulous, the barbies would have soaked the bedding since the barbies also must accompany Valerie to bed.

And if the bedding at been soaked, all HELL would have broken loose up there tonight!

Monday, May 16, 2005

Missing Daddy

In anticipation of daddy going on a business trip today, we went through a production of good-bye hugs and good-bye kisses. We assured daddy that we would talk to him on the telephone and blow him plenty of kisses during his absence.

This morning, I awoke anticipating a normal day of chaos prior to getting the kids fed and dressed before school started. Instead of being greeted with happy smiles and good morning cheer as I enter the girls' bedroom, both girls look a little sad, smiles turned down, lower lip puffed out, and shoulders slumped.

Dagny questioned, "Where daddy go? I want daddy."

Valerie announces, "I want daddy too. Is he already on an airplane?"

So, for the most part the girls mope around here in the hopes that daddy's trip will be canceled and he will appear for dinner.

Of course, the moment daddy returns from his trip and walks through the door with open arms, the girls will bashfully smile and quickly hug him, Then, they will say, "I want mommy."

And daddy will never know how much he was truly missed.

Sunday, May 15, 2005

Little People

Dagny was enmeshed in Fisher Price Little People.

Little People

The way these toys look has changed, for better or worse, over the last twenty-five or thirty years. But, the joy of these toys clearly transcends generations. For the love of Fisher Price Little People, I had to take this picture. It reminds me of the hours and hours that my sister and I dedicated to building Little People towns and acting out real life situations. A part of me wishes I could sit down and play also, but I fear my ability for pretend play has been significantly diminished over the years.

Long Live Fisher Price Little People!

Saturday, May 14, 2005

Bumper Cars

This evening, the family opted to attend a nearby carnival. It was one of those church fundraisers with booths for food and games in addition to rides and music. The rides were absolutely a hit for both kids. Of the two rides that Dagny was able to board, she screamed through the first one. It was all I could do to prevent her from leaping to the ground while holding onto our little car to limit our spinning in circles. Meanwhile, Valerie giggled and shrieked in pure enjoyment. However, at the end of the ride, I asked Dagny if she liked the ride and she assuredly announced, "Yeah! Again! Again!"

At the end of our short-lived carnival visit (my fault, I lost $10 worth of tickets), Valerie proclaimed her desire to ride the bumper cars. Ken and I agreed to let her try. Secretly, each of us expected our shy eldest child to talk a big game but would fall to pieces when the wish became a reality.

To our surprise, our little pistol marched up the stairs, confidently handed her four tickets to the operator, thoughtfully, yet quickly picked her favorite car, buckled herself up and listened to the instructions. The ride began and she just did it. Right before our eyes, our daughter transformed into this courageous kid! Of course, she spun that machine into a tangled mess several times, but she conducted herself like a perfect champ!

Bumper Cars

It was a truly proud moment for Ken and me, but more importantly, for Valerie herself!

Friday, May 13, 2005

Turning Five

Tonight we took the kids to gymnastics. The employees at this particular gymnastics enterprise offer an evening of Parents Night Out once a month for a nominal fee. The gymnastics teachers keep the children busy with various activities while the parents enjoy a few hours of child-free conversation.

Ken and I chose to spend our child-free few hours going to dinner with some friends. At the end of the night, we picked up Valerie and Dagny and thanked the babysitters. As we bid them good-bye, I mentioned that we would return tomorrow for a birthday party.

We closed the establishment's door and headed to our car. With excitement in her voice and eyes shining like stars, Valerie exclaimed, "Tomorrow is my birthday? Then, I'm turning FIVE!" She really believed she was turning five tomorrow.

It was tough to squelch her excitement, but I reminded her that no, her friend Alexa's birthday party was tomorrow.

Only 357 more days until Valerie turns five! It will be here before you know it!

Thursday, May 12, 2005

Juice From the Sink

A real conversation witnessed just moments ago:

Valerie: Hey Dagny, do you want some juice?
Dagny: Yeah!
Valerie: Okay, the next time you get some water, it's called juice from the sink!

Go figure.....

The Beast

This evening we watched part of Disney's Beauty and the Beast. The following recaps my conversation with Valerie:

Valerie: Why is the beast so mean?
Me: He's lonely.
Valerie: Why is he lonely?
Me: No one loves him.

Pause

Me: Did you know that daddy used to be a beast? (kidding)
Valerie: Was he mean?
Me: Yes, he was a mean beast.
Valerie: Was he lonely?
Me: Yes, he was lonely. Then, he met me and fell in love and he became nice.
Valerie: Mommy, were you a princess?
Me: Sure, a princess from Iowa. And you are a princess from California.
Valerie: When daddy was a beast, where did he put you?
Me: Well, he didn't really put me anywhere. These days princesses can go wherever they want.
Valerie: Will a mean beast love me?
Me: Anything it possible. But it's doubtful if your daddy has anything to do with it....

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Positive Peer Pressure

Today, Valerie had a play-date with a friend, Stephanie, from school at our house.

Stephanie ate dinner with us this evening prior to her mother coming to pick her up. I dished out the chicken flautas, vegetables and salad. As I put the salad on Stephanie's plate, she announced, "I don't like carrots! I am not going to eat them!"

There was no need for me to respond, because Valerie quickly interjected, "I LOVE carrots! I'm going to eat mine!"

Pensively, Stephanie agreed, "I guess I'll eat my carrots, too."

If that kind of positive peer pressure could transcend the next fifteen years, I think my job as a parent will dramatically improve!

Resisting Rest

I put the girls down for a nap at their usual time after lunch. They both resisted, as usual. By 2pm, Valerie made an appearance, announcing that she was no longer tired.

Knowing that she had originally awoken at 5:17am, returned to a restless sleep, and started her day by 6:52am, she needed a nap before her scheduled play-date arrived. I coaxed her into my bedroom. We flipped on some awful cartoons that caught her fancy and laid together on the bed, hand-in-hand. Within five minutes, she entered the sleep zone.

At 2:23pm, I heard a startled Dagny crying through the bedroom monitor and quickly jumped to quiet her without waking Valerie. Dagny happily climbed into my arms and laid her head on my shoulder, in her usual way. We moved to the rocking couch in the family room and cuddled. Shortly thereafter, I recognized the slow deep breathing. Dagny fell asleep again, right on my lap. For the first few minutes, we rocked together and I enjoyed the quiet mind-numbing time of doing nothing. Ten minutes into Dagny's nap on my lap routine, I was fidgeting and ready to be productive. It took me awhile to ignore my antsy attitude and enjoy the moment.

Dagny napped on my chest and lap, curled into a little ball for about 50 minutes. She smelled like sugar-water. She looked so peaceful. Her sweaty head pressed against my cheek. The only sounds I heard were Dagny's long, steady breathes and the chirping birds outside the window. And I wondered, "Will my baby ever cuddle like this with me again? I just hope this isn't the last time."

I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

Monday, May 9, 2005

A Typical Tantrum

I realize it's hard to be two years old. There are so many activities, so many demands on your time, so little control, so few words to express all the frustrations in the world.

Maybe it was the rain that ticked off little two-year-old Dagny this morning.

Maybe she had little interest in accompanying me to the post office.

Or maybe she was just plain tired.

Dagny, I informed you of the necessary post office stop in advance. But the choice was clear: either put on your shoes and come with me into the post office or stay in the car. The option was entirely yours. I avoided dragging you to five or six necessary errands that required completion today. I only took you to the post office and it was the beginning of a VERY difficult day.

Hopefully tomorrow will be better.

But remember, no shirt, no shoes, no service. Going forward, if you don't wear your shoes, you will have to stay in the car. And hopefully, the nice policeman will understand my parental predicament and refrain from turning me into family services.

So, if good old' mom suddenly disappears from your good life, please remember that I was only doing what I thought was right.

Sunday, May 8, 2005

THAT Was NOT Chocolate!

A while back, I posted a story about Dagny walking around the house with a piece of chocolate that may or may not have been ingested. ("Don't Mess With A Girl & Her Chocolate" posted March 21, 2005). I can report thus far that I have not come across the chocolate in question and can quite confidently conclude that it was, in fact, eaten.

This morning, I wish I had discovered that piece of chocolate. Instead, I found something entirely different.

My view is that Dagny is not quite ready to independently interpret her bowel and bladder functions. Conversely, she seems to believe she is ready to survive without diapers. Perhaps, she even dreams about the day when she will graduate to the exciting world of character-featured panties.

This morning, as Ken and I read the paper and drank our coffee, Dagny desired to run around the kitchen disrobed and diaper-free. For kicks, I brought her little potty into the kitchen and explained how it works. I even demonstrated the potty process with her new potty training baby doll. She spent most of the time, ascending and descending her personal potty, while glancing at her new baby sitting on it's potty.

As I engrossed myself into the one article I was given the opportunity to read, Dagny disappeared from the kitchen. I quickly finished the article and discovered her in the messy toy room. When I explained that if she leaves the kitchen, she MUST wear a diaper. Dagny exclaimed, "I poopy!" And I thought, okay, let's quickly get you into a diaper! Little did I know what she really meant.

A while later (I guess a passage of about 30 minutes), I decided to start some laundry. Entering the laundry room (which neighbors the toy room), the stench tickling my nose nearly knocked me off my feet. No wonder, neither of my children could be found in the toy room. Among the toy-covered floor, I found a few turds.

I regret sending Ken to the YMCA for some pick-up basketball. Despite having cleaned it up, please hurry back!

This will certainly be a memorable Mother's Day!

Saturday, May 7, 2005

Hitting

Dagny's worst habit is hitting. We know where she learned it; her sister is the responsible party. It's to the point of being entirely out of control. We punish her with time outs. We act overly dramatic at feeling hurt when she strikes. We even insist that she apologize and kiss the victim's boo-boo. Nothing seems to reduce her need to strike.

Tonight, as we romped around the family room playing a friendly game of tickling and wrestling (a game otherwise known as grab-ass in my family), Dagny whopped me good, right above the brow. I stopped and asked her, "What do you say?"

She smiled and responded, "Der ya go."

Alarmed, I thought, "What, you hit me and your response is, there you go? What kind of a child am I raising?" So I changed my tactic, "No Dagny, you HIT me. It HURTS. Ouweeee! What do you say?"

"Sorry!" And she leaned over to hug and kiss me, quite sincerely.

Kenny, watching the game on the couch, giggled quite conspicuously. It really was incredulous that our child could respond with a "There you go" after hitting. Like it was all in good fun!

Thursday, May 5, 2005

Fondly Four

If the last few months is any sort of indicator of what age four is like, I'm very much in favor of this age. Age four is undeniably divine.

Conversations can be light, yet meaningful. Or discussions can delve deeper than thought possible with the interminable inquiry of "why"?

"No" is often received as an acceptable answer.

The potty is nearly an entirely independent endeavor.

Amusements become an extended individual activity.

Organizing play-dates with friends becomes an enjoyable experience for the parents, as well as the children. Children can finally understand the concept of "taking turns". (Note this idea does not work as well with siblings.)

Getting dressed no longer requires trying on fifteen outfits prior to finding the "perfect" ensemble.

There is often a meeting of the minds when it comes to behaving badly.

The thought of being mommy or daddy's "little helper" is about as exciting as going to Disneyland.

Don't get me wrong, we still have plenty of trials and tribulations. But, really, age four is fantastic!

Happy Birthday my little VV! We love you!

4th Birthday

You're growing up so fast! Hugs and kisses even though you dragged us to Chuck E Cheese for your special birthday dinner. Maybe next year we can partake in the Cinco de Mayo festivities at Chili's or On The Border (Hint Hint).

Wednesday, May 4, 2005

"Mean to Me"

As with any siblings, my girls squabble over just about anything.

I believe that the more I get involved and the more the girls try to involve me, the worse the squabbling becomes. So, I try hard, to let them work it out.

I will let each of them complain about the other one to me, with only encouragement of how they should fend for themselves. I usually refuse to take sides unless it's obvious that one child clearly behaves poorly or acts too physical. When the complainer approaches me, I often let her sit on my lap so she can tell me her woes.

Most recently, when Dagny becomes upset with Valerie, she will walk toward me, her shoulders slumped forward, lower lip puffed out and say in a soft, sweet voice, "Mommy, Varee mean to me."

She will sit in my lap. I will rub her back. But after a minute or two, she's ready to rejoin the fun.

I turn my attention to some other household task. Within minutes, I often glimpse Valerie darting by in search of refuge. A second later, Dagny usually crosses my path with her arm cocked and ready to strike.

It's Not Your Fault

Valerie's school this week decided to make it "Teacher Appreciation Week." A school flyer outlined that each day the students are expected to bring a specific item for each teacher. Monday, we took flowers. Tuesday, we brought candy. Today, we gave Jamba Juice gift certificates. And tomorrow, we have Bath & Body Works hand soap to offer. You get the sick idea.... Mind you, these are new teachers who have been in the classroom for less than a month.

As we purchased the hand soap today, Valerie asked what we were doing and why. As I explained to her the purpose for our expenditure, she asked if we could also purchase something for her old teachers, Miss Elba and Miss Olivia.

I told Valerie that we could not buy the soaps for her old teachers since they no longer work at the school. Moreover, we do not know how to reach them.

Valerie asked for the old teachers' current whereabouts, to which I expressed my lack of knowledge. Valerie continued to probe whether or not they would return to her school. In my view, that outlook appears quite unlikely.

She asked, "Mommy, do you think the teachers left because we didn't do a good job listening?"

And my heart broke. The poor child thinks she's to blame for their departure!

So, I responded, "Honey, the teachers had a disagreement with Miss Roni [the head of administration]. It's not your fault that your teachers left. Usually, you're a VERY good listener sweetheart!"

And people wonder why adults scar children. These little people often think it's their fault for the turmoil in the world. It really breaks my heart.

Tuesday, May 3, 2005

Ugly Is As Ugly Does

This afternoon as I was changing the sheets on the bed, the girls decided to make a game of running through the curtains around the sliding glass door. I'm all in favor of the kids having a good time, but not at the expense of spending a grand or more on replacing broken curtains. Unsuccessfully, I requested an end to the curtain game, nicely and succinctly explaining why.

In my short four years of experience as a parent, I have determined at least one fact - any parent or grandparent, who claims that they can calmly ask children to behave and the children actually listen the first time, is a liar. Or, they have selective memories. Or, their kids are developmentally challenged. I regress.

After asking my girls to conclude their curtain game three times to no avail, I caught Valerie's arm, pulled her out of the curtains and firmly asked her if she heard what I said. She angrily stared up at me. So, I repeated my initial request, "Please stop playing in the curtains so that you do not rip them off the wall."

I continued with my task of making the bed. All the while, Valerie stared at me, her face growing red and angrier by the second. With hands on her hips, she shouted, "YOU'RE UGLY!"

I was stunned - not from feeling insulted, but from wondering where she could have come up with such a comment. I responded that such language is not very nice. Further, if such language is repeated in our household, there will be consequences.

Most people, with the exception of a very select few, seem to think Valerie resembles me, while Dagny is a spitting image of her daddy. Unbeknownst to her, Valerie insulted herself just as much as she tried to insult her mean mother. As I shared this story with a good friend yesterday, my friend reminded me of the saying, "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I wish I had been witty enough to remember this phrase at the time of the exchange. In the meantime, I will stash this one in the arsenal so that I can be prepared for next time.

Monday, May 2, 2005

Housework Helpers

The day of easing the housework load is near!

On Mondays, the garbage is collected in our neighborhood. This afternoon, after the garbage trucks emptied our trash cans and departed with our disposed assets, the girls played in the front yard. Concurrently, I intended to roll the cans back to their usual spots.

Just as I approached this Monday afternoon chore, Valerie ran toward me proclaiming, "I want to help! I want to do it mommy! I can put the cans away! Please, mommy, can I help?"

In this instance, I happily relinquished the duty to my oldest child.

Dagny observed the situation. Barely a moment passed, then she, too, ran to me, shouting, "I hep too! MOMMY, I HEP TOO!"

My little helpers....

I thought to myself, "The day has come! It's cool in the Haim household to help with the dirty work!"

I offered each child a coin for their piggy banks to show my appreciation for their help. I guess I'm one of those parents who thinks it's important in child development for kids to help around the house - to give them a sense of teamwork and of accomplishment. They really are so proud of themselves when they help!

It may be cool for the moment. The question now becomes how quickly will this "fun-to-do-chores attitude" dissipate?

I'm hoping it remains fun for at least five more years. I mean really, isn't this why we have kids - so they can help around the house? I have a long list of things to do -
garbage
laundry
breakfast
vacuum
garden
clean
put things away
pull things out
lunch
grocery
dry cleaners
bills
dinner
diapers
baths
change light bulbs
schedule appointments
etc.

Really, the list never ends and is quite repetitive. I can see why people used to have more kids... And they didn't even have any of the modern day conveniences like washing machines, garbage disposals or dishwashers which we fully utilize today!

Sunday, May 1, 2005

Falling Down

When many kids make a game of falling down, it often seems to relate to the age-old game of "Ring around a rosey, A pocket full of posies, Ashes, ashes, We all fall down."

Dagny has come up with her own falling down game.

As daddy watched an NBA game this afternoon, Dagny opted to dive head-first off the couch onto the floor.

With her arms reaching for the ground and her hips hanging over the arm of the davenport, she shouted, "Hep, hep" until one of us would start pushing her over the side of the couch. As she shrieked in joy, she would roll to the ground. Her head popped up and she exclaimed, "Falling down! Falling down!"

If only her birthday presents were this fun!