For Misato

This past weekend we went to a language immersion camp.  This gave us an opportunity to talk about language, and how important it is for us that our children have strong language skills.  B started to ask about Misato, a Japanese exchange student that we hosted.  She was curious about how she could be so strong to practice another language for a month.  We only survived the weekend.

So today I will post a few photos specifically for Misato.  We miss her. 

What a different winter we are having without Misato and without snow.  Both are missed.

Tidbits

R:  "It's my paci, actually.  That pacifier.  That one is mine, actually.  I feel nervous without it." 
(in the cutest 2yo accent you can muster)

B: "My hypothesis about this tree branch is that it is a beehive.  I can see holes in it, where the bees make honey.  That is a clue I am using for a hypothesis.  What clues are you using to tell me it is not a beehive?"

A: "The weekend can't be over, I haven't heard anyone say 'Heeeeers Peter Sagal."

A: "Asanpi Ihidi, Asanpi Ihidi, you will drink Asanpi Ihidi." 
B: "Really? You will drink it?"
A: "I like my Asanpi with Ihidi."
(loosely translated: 1) Butter, butter, you will drink butter.  2) Really? 3)I like my milk with solids.)

R: "I love papa, and mama, and papa again."

B: "I feel confused about why I am the only blonde person in my whole life.  No one at school is blonde, no one at home is blonde.  Am I the only one with such pretty hair?  I feel left out, but beautiful."

Me: "goo gaahh gogo thhhhbdt"
J: "goo gurgle thhhbdt"
(she really can mimic.  It is strange.)

Ok.  anyway.  Not exciting, but just a snippet. 

Secret Garden

Have you ever had the experience where you come across something that you didn't know existed?  Somewhere, perhaps, in a place that you go all of the time?  That happened to us in the past year.  We were on our way to a regularly scheduled event at a very normal location.  This is a spot that we have been for years and years and years.  Ok.  Four years, actually.  But this time, something caught our eye.  We saw a gate.  Now this gate has always been there, but it has always been locked.  In addition to it being locked, it is near a dumpster.  This was not an attractive gate to go through.  But on this day, this cool summer evening, the gate was open.  We also were in the strange situation of being an hour early for something. 

I noticed the gate and I was curious.  I don't even know how or why I looked over there.  Our destination was in the other direction.  But I saw it.  And then, Ms. B saw it.  I could see the wheels turning in her brain.  I am not kidding you when I say that I have never really noticed this gate in 4 years, but today... today it caught our eye.  B said something to A and before I knew it, all four of us were slowly drawn to the gate.  

We peaked in.  I am not sure what we expected to find, but it certainly wasn't what was there.  We peeked.  Then we stepped in. Now, on the other side of the gate was something that you wouldn’t typically find attractive at first glance.  In fact, we took Brendan there after our experience and he said “yeesh… this is…”   But to us, it was magical.  We stepped through and it was like being in another world. 

The space was a mix of concrete and boards wrapping around trees leading to all sorts of dead ends and curious spaces. It didn’t make any sense and you couldn’t get from point A to B without retracing your steps a couple of times.  I am sure the design made sense sometime, somewhere, but it didn’t make any sense in the modern day interpretation of a space for children.   The girls didn’t care. We spent 45 minutes exploring and enjoying this space built around and including trees and open spaces. 

The evening was everything you might imagine or expect from a child when they open a gift, or go to this new museum or activity.  Awe. Wonder. Amazement.  This all happened when we stepped three steps out of an ordinary parking lot.  An experience I could never hope to recreate.  Completely walled in, I was never nervous of where the girls were or who else they might interact with.  We were alone to explore.  Now, I am not going to tell you where we were. Frankly, we don’t really want you to join us. We call it our secret park.  Most of the time, this gate is locked. 

We have brought two people, grandma and papa.  Neither thought it as cool as we did.  So for now, just know that sometimes, when we have an hour to spare, we will explore the unknown. For us, in that moment, it will be magical. I hope to hold the memory of this evening forever. Unplanned, simple, carefree.  I can still feel that they remember it as much as I do when we near the secret garden. 

Math: the three year old version

Today I told Ms. A she was a fantastic mathematician.  Here is why:

A: Mom, will you carry me down the steps in the basket? It is my pirate ship and I need to sail to pick up tinkerbell.

Me: No A, you are too heavy.

A: Hmm... Mom, which weighs more baby J or the basket?

Me: ? Baby J weighs more.

A: Good! That's what I thought.  You carry J and me down the steps, so you can carry me in the basket.

Me: Good problem solving mathematician!   Hop in the basket.

We did make it down safely.  FYI.

Watch what you teach

6 months late... but I seem to find some time on my hands.

We were getting ready for swimming one night.  I was stressed.  Swimming is kind of a tricky thing.  It is something that we can't be too early for because there is a class before us and it is hard to keep kids out of a pool.  We can't come late because it is a short class, and we would miss a lot.  Not to mention the fact that Auntie and Nana are in the class before us and greet us in their suits.  Not polite to keep them cold and waiting.  I have mentioned this swimming thing before.  High stress to get going, but high reward.

So here I was, pregnant and stressed.  I tried to feed the girls something simple.  I don't remember what it was, but I do remember thinking that it was not a meal that Brendan would approve of.  Let's say it was garbanzo beans, cheese sticks, peas and rice.  Remember, I said it was simple.  The goal was to NOT have a fight and for them to get some pieces of what they needed so they wouldn't freak out at the pool.  Well, Ms. A would have none of it.  She refused to sit down, she refused to eat and I may have yelled a bit.  Ok, I yelled.  I said: "LISTEN A, SIT DOWN AND EAT YOUR MEAL."  Now this was to a) avoid freak outs in the pool b) to remain on schedule and c)so there were no leftovers for Brendan to see.  He makes fun of me a bit when I don't COOK dinner.  Anyway.  We went back and forth and then this little 3 yo comes over to me and says "listen mom.  Please calm down.  I am not going to eat the food, so you should just stop yelling about it.  I will probably be hungry, I know I won't get the snack after swimming, so take it out of the bag.  I am just not going to eat, so calm down and move on."  

Let me tell you.  My reaction in my head was not: "wow, what a nice girl that is.  She was polite, expressed her needs, thought out the consequences of her decision.  I am clearly doing the right thing."  Nope.  The thought in my head was something more resembling: "Did that little punk just tell me to CALM DOWN?  I AM CALM.  EAT YOUR DINNER."  I took a deep breath and said "thanks honey for using your words."  I took that snack right out of the bag and said I am sorry in advance for how hungry you are going to be.  

You know what?  She survived swimming.  She even got to the car and passed the snacks to the other girls.  She was very very hungry and asked the other girls if they would share.  They said no.  She slumped her shoulders and said OK then.   I came prepared. I offered to share my banana.  I didn't think this was a win for her because she doesn't love bananas.  In fact, I don't think she would eat one any other day of the week.  But this day, she said "sure mom, we can share.  Take your bites first so that I don't take too much."  

What a nice kid.  Freaks me out sometimes what great skills they have.  It also freaks me out some what a jerk I can be in my mind.  At least it all stays there. For now. 

New baby is comin... move over.

So, little R is my baby.  You can tell why last born children are thought to be a little spoiled. I know we STILL say that about my little brother.  R got nursed longer, she got to use her pacifier longer, she got to use a bottle much longer.  Basically, she gets to be the baby as long as she wants.  Or wanted that is.  The new baby is coming, and it is at the point where I realized that we have much less time than I think.   The recommendation is not to change anything in the two months leading up to and the two months after the baby is born.  Well crap.  That window just closed and she is still in the crib. 

She is a funny lady though.  Her bedtime routine involves (I am not lying here) a massage.  The lady demands a full body massage nightly pre-slumber.  She will move her arms, legs, back, whatever into position.  If you aren’t doing it right, she will take your hands and put them where she wants them.  Especially when it is time for a scalp rub.  The lady is intense.  But, once she is done, she calls “papa…” This means that it is his time to come up, take her from my arms and put her in bed.  Once there, she doesn’t make another peep.

Spoiled that one is.  Stubborn too! Yesterday I asked her to sign finished when she was done with dinner.  She said “Nope” and looked over her shoulder with her arms fully crossed.   Seriously?  19 months and an attitude?   Woah.  

She is also a lover.  She still loves to be rocked, held and even squeezed tightly.  She will bring me the baby sling and ask me to tie her in just so she gets that big hug.   The other miraculous thing?  She can share.  She is 19 months old and this lady can share.   A asked her (not so politely) for a toy.  R looked at her, appeared to think about it a while and then she handed it over.   It wasn’t a mistake.  I have seen her do it more than once.  She shares.  How weird.  

This is not to say that there are times when she doesn’t share.  The big ladies call her “Godzilla” because of how she likes to come and crash/smash/steal from their play.  The good lesson from that is that it can all be put back together.   

Anyway… work calls.  Little Miss R is in for quite a surprise come Halloween.   She thinks it is prime livin being the baby.  Being grown up when she wants to and a baby when she doesn’t.   I keep telling her there will be a new baby.  She doesn’t get it.   Come to think of it, I don’t really get it either.   

School days

School.   What a funny thing.  I was just explaining to B this AM that she has been asking me since she was TWO years old to go to school.   At that time, I remember the ECFE teacher asking me when her birthday would be, so she could start high 5.  I explained that she wouldn’t be 4 for another year and a half.  They were floored.   She is tall, articulate and (ahem… ) mature?  Ok.  I lied about the last part.   She does have skills to build in the social areas, but that is what school is all about. 

The strange thing about school, for me, is that it puts on display all of our parenting skills (or lack thereof).  The teacher will notice if she isn’t polite.  She will notice if she doesn’t shower.  Even if she doesn’t use her utensils properly.   I know the whole world is watching, but the teacher – they have the right perspective.  They know exactly what is on par for this age group and what isn’t.  Of course, this is Lake Woebegone right?  All my kids are above average.  That may be, but I have this lifelong horrible fear of standing out.  It all stems from a 2^nd grade spelling bee.  I pretended not to know how to spell the first word.  This way, everyone knew I chose to be done instead of actually not knowing something in front of other people.  GASP.  Now, I have gotten much better, but parenting sure brings these same insecurities to the forefront.  

Anyway – I could go on for days about what has been going on.   I might.   With my regular posting schedule, I should get there in about… 3 years.   The hardest thing about school for B has been getting up in the AM.  She loves the school, and the friends and the routine, but the morning is torture.   Here is where I think she and I are a perfect match.  Let me explain:

I lift her from her bed singing a gentle song.  She, in toddler terms, tells me to shut the f*up.  I sit her on the couch with me where we have 15 minutes to waste.  I get the lotion she made her nana buy, and rub her legs, feet and back and tell her stories.  These could be about anything.  But here is the trick, one of them has to hook her.  She is so intellectual, that one small hook and she is brought fully out of that sleep and into the world asking questions and ready to hurry into the clothes.   Force or aggression would never work with this lady.  Slow, steady and intellectually stimulating.  Today, a story about how she has been preparing for school for more than 2 years.   

Once she is hooked, she looks at the clothes I have picked out and sitting on the couch.  Inevitably, there is something there that is totally wrong.  That is also by design.  This is so she will get off the couch now and take me to the closet to show me what she WILL wear.  Boom.  No fight about leaving the comfort of storytelling to get engaged with the rest of the AM routine.    Then, in the bathroom she wants to use this fancy pre-rinse that shows her where to brush.  I can handle that.  We brush, potty and put on one of “mama’s necklaces.”  Wait, you say. You let her wear your necklaces?  Oh… there is a trick to that too.  I bought some costume necklaces at the State Fair for $2.00 a piece.  They are MINE (wink, wink) and she is wearing them proudly.

Anyway.  That is our routine. We go to the bus stop and sit and talk about nature.  We observe things like why is some of the sidewalk wet while other parts are dry?  Why is it colder today w/o clouds then it was yesterday w/ clouds?  Why does that lady wear tennis shoes with her skirt on her way to the bus?  We are learning all about this dang neighborhood in our 10 minute wait.  

The remaining mystery?  Why in the past two days has she hesitated getting on the bus in the AM?  What is the problem and what is the “trick” to solving it?  I have my theories… but you stopped reading by now anyway. 

Little Dx2

Don't know why these makes me giggle so.  Not much action, even less technique.

For Cousin D

Cousin D wrote to request some videos.  

And the classic too much haha leads to boohoo

Little corn have big ears

So, it is no secret that kids listen to everything.   I mean, B was no more than 15 months when she said, in what was her creepy clear baby voice “the campaign is heating up.” But we have been reminded of this time after time that you CANNOT talk over their head.  They hear it.  Even the boring stuff.  Examples:

We had an exchange student from Japan here when the earthquake hit.   For weeks after that, in the car the ladies (2,3 at the time) would always say “they are talking about Misato.  What are they saying about Japan?  Is Misato OK?”   One would assume that they block out the NPR b/c it isn’t interesting.  So not the case. 

Same thing happened when the world discussed Libya hourly.   Ms. A wanted to know why they were talking about Olivia on the raido.  What did they know about Olivia?  She was very excited. 

The examples abound for how these ladies listen to everything that is said.  My favorites are probably when B jumped out from behind the couch and yelled "Heeeeeers Peter Sagal."  Or, when A asked why on earth the radio know about TV when Terri Gross was talking to the guys who created Yo Gabba Gabba.

Just last week, little B was talking with big B.  Somehow they were talking about going to Jail. Little B informed the big guy* that “Kids don’t go to jail, democrats go to jail.”   Now who the heck has she been talking to?  He quickly corrected her on who he thinks should be in jail.

And, just to be sure I KNOW they they listen, she really got me the other day when I told Brendan that I had a dream where we got up, sipped coffee, ate beignets and read the coffee w/ no chores or kids.   The next day, Father’s day, I made café au lait and beignets.  At the end of that day, 18? 20 hours after my first comment, B asked me “why do you want to get rid of us? Why don’t you want us around for beignets?  They are delicious.” 

Heart breaking.  Kids hear e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.   They are always paying attention.   Good thing we are always discussing their cuteness, brilliance, sense of humor and balance. Right?

*not THE big guy.