We're not going to Disneyland

Took the girls to dinner tonight to see what a "Family Night" event was all about. It included a woman in a non-scary clown costume and her poor quality karaoke machine complete with frequent feedback from the mic and 7 year old children singing Bieber tunes off key. Okay, so that's totally scary! 

Anyhow, Bubbles the Clown announced that it was Minnie Mouse night just as we were finishing up our meal. She played a few songs from Mickey Mouse Clubhouse before switching over to the pop music; the theme for the evening seemed a little week until Bubbles announced a special guest. 

Mind you, when HUGable saw the children singing, she -- and I'm not EVEN exaggerating -- tried to push me out of the booth with the entire force of her little body and exclaimed: "Ma-ommmm! MOVE! Get out of the way." After I stopped laughing at her brazen request, I relented and slid forward enough for her to squeeze out. She and KISSable were playing with the balls and bowling pins, watching the big kids and dancing to the music while I cleaned up. Then, that announcement. 

I inferred that the special guest was Minnie Mouse. I didn't even have enough time to think sarcastically: this will be interesting. An instant scream, wail and tears came from the direction of my toddler, and I knew it was time to go. Like, don't even try to calm her down but grab the kids and run. 

KISSable, though, clutched two balls that needed to be unhinged from her baby grip. I grabbed her, balls and all, and looked around for HUGable. When I saw Bubbles the Clown at the exit, I knew HUGable opted not to wait for mommy but to quickly remove herself from the stressful situation by running. 

I'm trying to grab HUGable when Bubbles the damn Clown makes a move to tell me KISSable can't take the balls with her. Well, duh! But let's not make this more of a code red than it already is. Patrons are stacking on both side of the the breezeway, surrounded by doors on each side, while I'm carefully plucking balls from the hand of the girl who cries when people (read her big sis) take objects forcibly from her. Thankfully, HUGable didn't enter the parking lot, KISSable didn't cry and they were quickly buckled with a promise of time at the park before bath and bedtime. 

*

I thought/hoped her fear of costumed characters would vanish like her fear of trains and the dark. Instead, she has been pretty consistent starting with Santa Claus, huge stuffed animals, Cat in the Hat,  the Cookie Mouse and a big grocery bag character from our favorite supermarket. I've tried explaining that big kids are playing dress up and that it's not real, but she'll have none of that. Clearly, we're not going to Disneyland until she can smile on Santa's lap. 

Vocab Explosion: Literacy Begins at Home

Every day KISSable keeps adding more coherently-spoken words to her vocabulary. Aside from her name, I'm most impressed by her "ah-ro-nah" (astronaut). Today she belted out with "Sasa!" for NASA. And, of course, she's asking for food by name: tuna, hummus, Cheerios. She makes her literacy loving momma proud.

I love reading to her and letting her finish the sentences in books like her favorite Gossie: boots, every day, rides, and hides or favorite songs like Sunshine and Bus. This developmental milestone is magical. 

As an English teacher (once and always), I worry about parents who don't cultivate a love for reading and who choose balls over books because they claim their child won't sit still. I have seen the end game and know how children lag behind their peers and struggle with overwhelming cross-curricular reading assignments and decoding the text.

I understand that parents are crunched for time. Seriously, though: children's books are short (until you graduate to Suess and H.E. Ray, that is). So set a time limit on reading 10 minutes of stories and BAM! you're off to teeth brushing and getting those little joys off to bed.






For the parent who is hindered by his or her own reading ability, know this: 1) your child doesn't know or care and 2) I'm convinced my off-key singing will get better if I keep at it (I'm looking at you, "Down by the Bay"!) and likewise, your reading is bound to improve the more, too. Just be silly (like Mem Fox singing her Ten Little Fingers below)! Children's author and literacy advocate Mem Fox put together a pretty impressive list for parents called "Ten Read-Aloud Commandments."

I share the stress, frustration and guilt that comes along with wanting to be a good parent but feeling like you're unable to do it all. From ABCs and 123s to hop, skipping and jumping, we're also expected to groom our children to perfect automatons in public else our parenting is questioned. There is so much to teach them! However, I'm realizing the old (English teacher?) saying: "There's a book for that!" rings true for infants and toddlers. Let these fantastic books do the teaching. If you can't find it, ask a librarian. Or me. I can help, too!

Even better, there are organizations like the National Institute for Literacy who put out publications like "Literacy Begins a Home: Teach them to read" which offers age appropriate checklists for toddlers aged 2 to 3rd grade school children. I picked up my copy at a nearby library. The first item on the first item on the first checklist is: "I read with my child every day, even if it's only for a few minutes." Do it!

Here is an incomplete list of our kid-tested favorite books and authors for ages 0-3 (and beyond).

• Boynton, Sandra: Moo, Baa, La La La! AND Barnyard Dance
• Brown, Margaret Wise: Good Night Moon
• Cronin, Doreen: Click, Clack, Moo: Cows That Type
• Day, Alexandra: Good Dog, Carl
• Dean, James: Pete the Cat: I Love my White Shoes
• Dunrea, Olivier: Gossie
• Martin, Jr., Bill: Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you see? AND Chicka Chicka ABC (w/ J. Archambault)
• Numeroff, Laura Joffee: If You Give a Pig a Party AND If You Give a Pig a Pancake 
• Falconer, Ian: Olivia AND Olivia and the Fairy Princesses
• Fox, Mem: Ten Little Fingers AND Time for Bed 
• Parr, Todd: The Family Book
  
• Patricelli, Leslie: Quiet Loud
• Rey, H.E.: Curious George
• Seuss, Dr.: Dr. Seuss' ABC AND One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish
• Willems, Mo: Don't Let Pigeon Drive the Bus! AND We are in a Book!

A wave and a friendly "Hello" in the wake of lock downs

How did my toddler come to be so friendly in a society that has become so unfriendly? I wonder how long I can shelter her from daily disasters and violence covered by the news media and how I can prolong her childhood innocence that brightens the days of those we meet.

HUGable has been waving and saying hello to strangers for a while now. Perhaps she has take cues from my standard practice of calling every stranger a friend. She'll walk through a restaurant and wave at the patrons like they've all been sitting around waiting for her to appear! Her actions garner reciprocal waves, grins and laughs. Doesn't matter what age, gender or race. She is unafraid and super-friendly.

A few weeks ago, she waved to a middle school aged boy sitting on a bench at The Maxx, HUGable's name for our favorite discount retailer. He gave her the look of a child who lost his innocence too soon; it was a mix of surprise, disbelief and disdain. Thankfully, she didn't notice and continued right out the door waving to smoking man by the exit doors.

Last week, she made me smile as we approached the park, and she waved to a similarly-aged girl and her mother. I wondered if Little MOMable was excited for a potential playmate or could predict that MOM would soon be chatting them up with the "How old?" ice breaker that opened up to a nice conversation and exchanging digits. Striking up conversations with strangers still feels excessively straining for this teacher mom, and I'm impressed that HUGable approaches it so effortlessly.

Thankfully, our Monday adventures did not include news coverage. I was grateful for conversation with moms at the park about what to serve children for lunch blissfully unaware that a good chunk of the nation's capitol found itself in lock down and am proud to say my phone was put away until nap time when I finally read about the news. Even if she doesn't see the news, someday she'll ask why the flags are lowered. Despite all the potential danger to her fragile innocence, I hope she continues to embrace the strangers she meets with compassion.

Bad furniture, bad!

Right eye

Hard-headed through and through.

The furniture has been unkind to my children.

Two nights ago I slept peacefully. I may have heard the thump, but my subconscious didn't register as quickly as DADable's. He set off the alarms by thumping my side of the bed, in another successful campaign to ensure mommy is on the clock 24/7. With the aid of his gentle touch, I sprang to action, put an ear to the walls and attempted to decipher the cry. I headed to HUGable's room and found her in a clump on the floor.

Six months ago, I had a bed rail new in the box. I sold it after realizing it didn't fit on the crib mattress turned toddler bed. Perhaps D and I were shortsighted in that we now have her in a twin where the rails most certainly would have fit. Instead, we rationalized that we didn't have crib rails as children, so ours would probably be okay, too. Probably.

This is at least her second fall out of the bed. The first fall saw her landing on the wooden ducky step stool located at the side of the bed. After relocating the stool, I thought we'd be golden. Not so. I couldn't have predicted an "unobstructed" fall would result in a shiner, and I'm still musing over the angles and location where she must have hit. I will retaliate against the edges of this bed by padding it with blankets.

That bed is not long for this family. After moving it from purchase place to its current resting place, we decided that we will have someone pay us for their opportunity to haul it away. Long live craigslist, anyway.

The next piece of furniture on the chopping block came to us from DADable in the joining of our households prior to marriage. This little gem dates back to his youth. Along with the ranch oak couch and love seat (in serious need of an upholstery cleansing) came a dresser - the only piece of the collection I won't let go - and a wooden ottoman that has been missing its cushion for who-knows-how-long and now serves as a little shorty table for the kids in KISSable's room.

I was within two arms lengths away from that little shorty table but should seen that the pointy corner coming. No such luck, MOMunable.

HUGable lugged a box of diapers into sister's room. She opened the box, removed the diapers, and used the box as a toy. Score for the kids, right? No, disaster imminent. The first one climbed in, then the second climbed in. The first climbed out and the second claimed the throne. KISSable, like her big sister before her, drove the boxcar for awhile.

She stood up and leaned forward to shift her weight and throw one leg over. She tipped, and I scooped her into my arms before she reacted to the shock of impact. But the cry quickly increased into a loud, uncontrollable wailing shriek. Poor little honey! Upon inspection, I saw a bump on the forehead and a purple point of impact that hadn't decided whether or not it would bleed. I headed for the ice first, but she pushed that away still crying. When I could not find the first-aid supplies or Baby Tylenol, I called D in a panic but could not communicate my message or hear his response over baby girl's sobs. So I toted the baby out to the car and brought the first aid kit back inside. I wiped a few drops of blood that materialized, added ointment, Band-aid and checked again for the Tylenol. Found it, double checked dosing requirements and she gratefully accepted it.

*

The message? Don't call me in a crisis. Slow to think and slower to act. We saved the day and made some beautiful musical shakers, ate lunch at the park. But we were greeted by the "Oh, what happened here?" and I realized my gorgeous girls looked sorrier than the boys from Fight Club. The unkind furniture gives MOMable the appearance of being an unfit mother.

Smells like team spirit

Dinner is Crockin', and it smells like team spirit.

To survive, I've been prioritizing rest during nap time over attacking my to do list. (Read: slacker needs to get it together!) It follows then that I have been in a meal prep rut. I'm sick of restaurants with poor service, frozen meals in a bag and other processed foods. Grocery shopping trips have been limited to the basics without thinking through what we'll actually need to eat for the week.

So. This weekend DADable offered to take the kids to the park. When HUGable asked if I was going, mommy guilt set in. I grabbed my shopping list, menu binder and cook book and told them I'd sit nearby while daddy played with them. I finished with time left to swing KISSable and let DADable to spin the girls on the merry-go-round. <-- Big mistake!

Finished up the morning with a trip to the grocery store, where the girls got in a scuffle while driving side-by-side in the cramped shopping cart car. Fun times on a Sunday morning.

<3MOM

* Chicken Soft Tacos *

1-1.5 lbs of frozen chicken
1 can diced tomatoes w/ green chiles
        (or 1 medium jar of mild salsa, per a friend with a similar recipe)
1 packet taco seasoning
---
Place chicken in crock pot, mix taco seasoning with tomatoes and pour over chicken
6-8hrs on low
4-5hrs on high

Living out of the car

I can't shake this feeling that I should have done something different, but I was scared and moved on.

From the biggest little cities to the little big cities (7x7), I have seen my share of homeless individuals on the streets. Generally, I walk right by or at the most make eye contact and attempt to smile. As a rule, I never give money to panhandlers, but I have offered food and have served at shelters. The urinating, off their meds crazy, or shooting heroin homeless adults are the ones I've most been exposed to. Not the children. 

Except in the way that I have certainly had homeless students, but I never saw them in that environment. Those admin or support staff who knew usually didn't share it with the teachers, which seems to defeat the point of being able to address the whole child. 

Anyhow, I found myself at a public library this week with the girls. Pulled in a few minutes before their doors opened. As I was unloading, I noticed the young shoeless boy of 8? open the trunk of the car he had just climbed out of to retrieve some clothes. I slowly realized that he had likely slept in the car, and I wanted to shield my girls from seeing what I saw even though in their toddling, they clearly wouldn't have processed it like I did. 

We steered clear and HUGable directed us to the bathroom with her "need to go potty NOW!" On our way out, there he was... Sitting on the floor in the hallway to the bathroom. Now wearing flip flops. Looking at us. KISSable babbled at him in her unintelligible words. I grabbed her hand and said, "Say hi to our friend." His look killed me, and I wish I would have followed up with something that... I don't know... Sounded more sincere and was more aligned with my beliefs of helping children rather than my actions of trying to protect my own from the harsh realities that they'll soon enough learn with or without my "protection."

Accomplished Teacher

It took me eight years before I felt like an accomplished teacher and luckily my peers agreed with me. How long before I feel like an accomplished mom? If being a "first-time mom" feels anything like a first-time teacher, the statistics show that the first three years are the most critical in your career.

I have three months before I hit three years experience as a mom. I decided today to call myself MOMable -- a play on teachABLE MOMents -- because it's the ideal version of who I strive to be. Yet in reality I make mistakes every day. HUGable repeating my words and tone in her dealings with KISSable: NO! Stop it! ...But I know every day is a new day. I can do this!


<3MOMable