La Princesita never ceases to blow me away.
One of the latest revelations to surface involved her church school lessons. She stated that, although she likes the stories of, say, Adam and Eve, she doesn't think they are true.
Surprised at her directness, I asked her why.
"Because snakes can't really talk. And what about the cavemen? And the dinosaurs? Wasn't there an order that things kind of followed, and humans kind of came from them? How could God just have planted a human here and make him talk like we do and say 'there, all done'?"
Wow. I was silent.
"I mean, obviously there is God but I don't think that it happened like all the stories say it happened. How did anyone know? Nobody else was alive, so it's just a story."
--That where the idea of myth comes in.
"What's myth?"
--Stories that kind of draw pictures of things we believe to create a story that makes something hard to understand easier.
"So what is this a picture of?"
--Well, Adam and Eve show us that we need a male and a female to create life. There is no other way. We know that by science.
"Yeah. But what about the snake?"
--You know that little voice inside of you that nags you when you do something you shouldn't do? It's kind of like that little voice.
"Oh, okay." And she turns back to her coloring.
*---*
That conversation left me bursting with pride. My little girl is willing to grow, expand and question in ways that I never felt the freedom as a child to do. Instead, I was given no reason to think beyond the parameters of literalism, which is something I truly believe hindered my intellectual development. She wants to understand the world in the way she best feels comfortable; a practical, scientifically-explicable way and is open to learning different points of view including, more importantly, the WHYs driving different points of view. The thoughts that she voices can sometimes amaze me as they often reflect a level of thinking I didn't achieve until I was much, much older.
May I always give my children the tools they need to be free, open-minded thinkers.
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta monitos. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta monitos. Mostrar todas las entradas
miércoles, 14 de enero de 2009
lunes, 15 de diciembre de 2008
bursting with pride
I have yet to figure out how to handle these kinds of situations: a friend calls me to invite Princesita ice-skating. He won't answer the phone, ever. Or hardly ever, so he never gets the call or even hears the phone ring and hence never checks messages unless it is on his cell. And that is not foolproof, either. So although it is not my weekend with the children, I am asked if Princesita can go ice-skating with them.
I asked Him and he said yeah, do you want me to take them?
I suppose I should have said yes, but he won't get on skates and especially Young Prince is a bit dependent still on an adult's arm out on the ice. Knowing this, I said I'll take them and he was absolutely fine with that.
Difficult point in being under the same roof is trying to establish his-time vs. my-time. I felt bad for infringing upon his weekend with the kids. However, my time with them should not be the only one in which they have interruptions, friend activities, etc. I rather enjoy such interaction and, as they aren't really going a lot of places without me yet, it just gives me some adult time with another parent, which I always enjoy.
Perhaps I will just have to begin to tell people: They are with their father this weekend; here is his number. And let that be that.
I asked Him and he said yeah, do you want me to take them?
I suppose I should have said yes, but he won't get on skates and especially Young Prince is a bit dependent still on an adult's arm out on the ice. Knowing this, I said I'll take them and he was absolutely fine with that.
Difficult point in being under the same roof is trying to establish his-time vs. my-time. I felt bad for infringing upon his weekend with the kids. However, my time with them should not be the only one in which they have interruptions, friend activities, etc. I rather enjoy such interaction and, as they aren't really going a lot of places without me yet, it just gives me some adult time with another parent, which I always enjoy.
Perhaps I will just have to begin to tell people: They are with their father this weekend; here is his number. And let that be that.
*---*
Ice-skating with my children has become one of our greatest winter pleasures. Princesita is completely independent and can even spin around on her own and go backwards. She demonstrated yesterday, in the second half of the two-hour skate session, how at ease she feels on the blades.
She began to skate about 5 feet away from Young Prince, then would turn around and tell him to skate to her. He would, not touching anything, me behind him but not holding onto him at all, and would end in her arms, giving her a big hug. Parents all around were watching with smiles. I was beaming, so proud. Then she would skate a little further away and he, concentrating on her, would make his way over to her. This process repeated itself until Princesita was at one end and Young Prince at the other, and he made his way all the way over to her without falling or grabbing me.
She taught him how to skate.
She would pretend to fall and make silly faces to keep Young Prince giggling...which turned into a great motivation for him to continue. She made his learning fun, she knew what to do to keep his attention and not let him get frustrated when he would, in fact, slip and fall. He didn't even go anywhere near the wall the entire second half of the session, boasting a confidence that he had garnered from his big sister's amazing teaching style and support.
Princesita says she wants to be a teacher. I consistently see in her the natural ability to teach, the patience to explain, the creativity to find a way to make the material easy to learn, and the flexibility and sense of humor to maintain motivation and attention. Although I have seen this in her many times before, it was yesterday that it somehow became most apparent to me; she is a natural-born teacher.
She looked at me when I told her this yesterday and said, "But Mommy, I just did what you did for me when I was learning."
I don't remember what I did as she has come so far, but she knew what she had to do to make Young Prince take those first independent steps on ice. He trusted her and she didn't let him down.
I am so proud.
She began to skate about 5 feet away from Young Prince, then would turn around and tell him to skate to her. He would, not touching anything, me behind him but not holding onto him at all, and would end in her arms, giving her a big hug. Parents all around were watching with smiles. I was beaming, so proud. Then she would skate a little further away and he, concentrating on her, would make his way over to her. This process repeated itself until Princesita was at one end and Young Prince at the other, and he made his way all the way over to her without falling or grabbing me.
She taught him how to skate.
She would pretend to fall and make silly faces to keep Young Prince giggling...which turned into a great motivation for him to continue. She made his learning fun, she knew what to do to keep his attention and not let him get frustrated when he would, in fact, slip and fall. He didn't even go anywhere near the wall the entire second half of the session, boasting a confidence that he had garnered from his big sister's amazing teaching style and support.
Princesita says she wants to be a teacher. I consistently see in her the natural ability to teach, the patience to explain, the creativity to find a way to make the material easy to learn, and the flexibility and sense of humor to maintain motivation and attention. Although I have seen this in her many times before, it was yesterday that it somehow became most apparent to me; she is a natural-born teacher.
She looked at me when I told her this yesterday and said, "But Mommy, I just did what you did for me when I was learning."
I don't remember what I did as she has come so far, but she knew what she had to do to make Young Prince take those first independent steps on ice. He trusted her and she didn't let him down.
I am so proud.
jueves, 13 de noviembre de 2008
update on hair!
Well, the entire first grade was checked today, and report had it that some of her friends were sent home...but Princesita was in the clear. Whew! However, had I not been through her hair with a fine-tooth comb last night, I am not certain that would have been the case today.
Please, oh please, let us get through this with no live bugs. I can handle eggs. Not bugs.
Just to respond to comments...
Yes, I hear your ews and icks. And Dads, your ever-so-generous benefit of the doubt on the "deep love" theme post was an angle I honestly did not consider when writing.
(sigh) One more student. Then my weekend begins.
Please, oh please, let us get through this with no live bugs. I can handle eggs. Not bugs.
Just to respond to comments...
Yes, I hear your ews and icks. And Dads, your ever-so-generous benefit of the doubt on the "deep love" theme post was an angle I honestly did not consider when writing.
(sigh) One more student. Then my weekend begins.
miércoles, 12 de noviembre de 2008
good intentions
Some road is proverbially paved with these, isn't it?
Perhaps it is just All of The Elements' ways of telling me that I am, in fact, NOT to write on this week's topic. Not only am I having an incredibly hard time crafting the words to the post on learning to love deeply, but everything seems to be coming UP in Life right now.
A youngster in La Princesita's class was sent home with lice today. Upon inspection this evening, I believe I found three nits in my Princesita's hair. So tonight, instead of taking the night to relax and write a bit, I am washing pillows, clothing and towels like a madwoman; vacuuming carpets and furniture; and quarantining stuffed animals and unwashables in huge plastic garbage bags. Both children have donned plastic shower caps over their olive-oiled heads and will sleep in such fashion overnight...three nits is all I found, but I will take NO CHANCES!!! And I will do the same tonight, as my entire body feels like it is crawling with little lice legs.
eeeeeeeeewww
At least we will have really well-conditioned hair tomorrow.
If I were in a better mood, I would take a picture for posterity's sake.
Perhaps it is just All of The Elements' ways of telling me that I am, in fact, NOT to write on this week's topic. Not only am I having an incredibly hard time crafting the words to the post on learning to love deeply, but everything seems to be coming UP in Life right now.
A youngster in La Princesita's class was sent home with lice today. Upon inspection this evening, I believe I found three nits in my Princesita's hair. So tonight, instead of taking the night to relax and write a bit, I am washing pillows, clothing and towels like a madwoman; vacuuming carpets and furniture; and quarantining stuffed animals and unwashables in huge plastic garbage bags. Both children have donned plastic shower caps over their olive-oiled heads and will sleep in such fashion overnight...three nits is all I found, but I will take NO CHANCES!!! And I will do the same tonight, as my entire body feels like it is crawling with little lice legs.
eeeeeeeeewww
At least we will have really well-conditioned hair tomorrow.
If I were in a better mood, I would take a picture for posterity's sake.
viernes, 19 de septiembre de 2008
life is so damn short
La Princesita and I just finished watching the end of the Latin telenovela entitled Al diablo con los guapos. I had been interrupted while watching various key scenes in the duration of this particular soap opera and the children enjoy watching a show I can narrate a bit for them, although La Princesita is starting to understand some of what is being said.
Lots to talk about here...
Why on Earth do I let my children watch overreactive telenovela trash? Because I am finding this is a great entry into specific talks I need to have with them. They see drug/alcohol abuse, so we talk about those dangers. They see the "bad guys" smoking...only the "bad guys" seem to smoke. They see sex, and La Princesita asks me openly about it. Racism is a common theme, as are class issues and poverty. Instead of having to be the initiator of all these conversations, I can allow the show to initiate and then let the children come up with any questions they want to ask. Perfect.
The soap operas in Latin America last anywhere from a few months to a year and a half, max. So, much like a short story, it is easy to get emotionally invested in the life of the protagonists as character development and evolution is rapid, coming to closure in a decent amount of time. Then it is all over. Sometimes these come to a "happily ever after" conclusion. Others, like that of tonight, are surprising in the pure quantity of wet tissues they produce.
About 20 minutes into the final hour of tonight's finale, the "happily ever after" wedding occured and all were happy-happy-contentos-felices. It was lovely. Princesita giggled, saying that her eyes felt all wet. I told her it is natural to feel like you want to cry when you feel happy as well as when you are sad.
Commercial break. I wondered what was to come next.
The scenes, over the last half hour, jumped in time from after the wedding a few years, adding more, then more; the protagonist's mother died. Another mother died. It was not bad; it was peaceful, with loved ones surrounding. Children were born, the cycle of life was illustrated. Happiness, aging, and then the protagonist's father died--miserly and alone.
The final scene had Millie and Alejandro walking on the beach, the same beach upon which they first slept together--remember, the one with the perfectly fluttering white linen in the beach breeze silhouetted against a red sunset? Yeah. That one. This time, however, they were ancianos, a pair of lovers who had aged so much that they shook as they made their way in the treacherous sand. They stopped and looked at each other against the light of the sun, flashing back to that night they were first together, expressing their undying love for each other, how her eyes are the last thing he ever wants to see in his life, how he wants to die with her. Flash from past to present a few times. You can see their memories of that first night that sealed their destinies in the same envelope for the rest of their lives.
The kind of love I would die for. The kind of love I want to know. Life is too short...
At that I could not hold back the tears. Sure, it's fiction, but it's the beauty of the ideal that gets me.
The two of them made their way to the makeshift little cabana that still exists. Somehow there is a sofa there, under the sunshade. They sit and flashback to making love on the blanketed floor below their feet.
Flashback to present: elderly Alejandro has slumped down against ancient Millie. She puts her head down and they die there together.
Together. In peace and in love.
I don't think I've ever seen my Princesita sob so hard. At first I thought that perhaps this was too young to let her watch this--but I didn't know the show series would end this way.
Then I remembered that, when I was her age, I began to experience fear. She has been asking me about death lately, about what happens to bad souls vs. good souls when we die. Hard questions.
I tucked her into bed and kissed her tears. They continued flowing.
--Do you need to sleep in Mama's bed tonight?
She nods.
--Come.
I take her hand and lead her back to my king. She lies back on my pillows and cries.
--Do you want to talk about it?
She shakes her head.
--It's life, darling. We all get old.
"I don't want to get old. I am afraid to get old. I never want to grow up."
--If I hadn't grown up, I wouldn't have you now, you know.
Silent, sobs, shuddered breathing.
"I don't want to die. I'm afraid to die."
--So am I, love. I am, too. That's okay.
When I was young, I used to lay in my bed at night and cry myself to sleep, wondering if it would be as black and dark when I die as it was in my bedroom. I know how she feels--but never had a parent who would hold me through those nights. I was always "overreacting."
My baby girl sleeps with me tonight. She needs me. I need her, too.
Life is too damn short.
Lots to talk about here...
Why on Earth do I let my children watch overreactive telenovela trash? Because I am finding this is a great entry into specific talks I need to have with them. They see drug/alcohol abuse, so we talk about those dangers. They see the "bad guys" smoking...only the "bad guys" seem to smoke. They see sex, and La Princesita asks me openly about it. Racism is a common theme, as are class issues and poverty. Instead of having to be the initiator of all these conversations, I can allow the show to initiate and then let the children come up with any questions they want to ask. Perfect.
The soap operas in Latin America last anywhere from a few months to a year and a half, max. So, much like a short story, it is easy to get emotionally invested in the life of the protagonists as character development and evolution is rapid, coming to closure in a decent amount of time. Then it is all over. Sometimes these come to a "happily ever after" conclusion. Others, like that of tonight, are surprising in the pure quantity of wet tissues they produce.
About 20 minutes into the final hour of tonight's finale, the "happily ever after" wedding occured and all were happy-happy-contentos-felices. It was lovely. Princesita giggled, saying that her eyes felt all wet. I told her it is natural to feel like you want to cry when you feel happy as well as when you are sad.
Commercial break. I wondered what was to come next.
The scenes, over the last half hour, jumped in time from after the wedding a few years, adding more, then more; the protagonist's mother died. Another mother died. It was not bad; it was peaceful, with loved ones surrounding. Children were born, the cycle of life was illustrated. Happiness, aging, and then the protagonist's father died--miserly and alone.
The final scene had Millie and Alejandro walking on the beach, the same beach upon which they first slept together--remember, the one with the perfectly fluttering white linen in the beach breeze silhouetted against a red sunset? Yeah. That one. This time, however, they were ancianos, a pair of lovers who had aged so much that they shook as they made their way in the treacherous sand. They stopped and looked at each other against the light of the sun, flashing back to that night they were first together, expressing their undying love for each other, how her eyes are the last thing he ever wants to see in his life, how he wants to die with her. Flash from past to present a few times. You can see their memories of that first night that sealed their destinies in the same envelope for the rest of their lives.
The kind of love I would die for. The kind of love I want to know. Life is too short...
At that I could not hold back the tears. Sure, it's fiction, but it's the beauty of the ideal that gets me.
The two of them made their way to the makeshift little cabana that still exists. Somehow there is a sofa there, under the sunshade. They sit and flashback to making love on the blanketed floor below their feet.
Flashback to present: elderly Alejandro has slumped down against ancient Millie. She puts her head down and they die there together.
Together. In peace and in love.
I don't think I've ever seen my Princesita sob so hard. At first I thought that perhaps this was too young to let her watch this--but I didn't know the show series would end this way.
Then I remembered that, when I was her age, I began to experience fear. She has been asking me about death lately, about what happens to bad souls vs. good souls when we die. Hard questions.
I tucked her into bed and kissed her tears. They continued flowing.
--Do you need to sleep in Mama's bed tonight?
She nods.
--Come.
I take her hand and lead her back to my king. She lies back on my pillows and cries.
--Do you want to talk about it?
She shakes her head.
--It's life, darling. We all get old.
"I don't want to get old. I am afraid to get old. I never want to grow up."
--If I hadn't grown up, I wouldn't have you now, you know.
Silent, sobs, shuddered breathing.
"I don't want to die. I'm afraid to die."
--So am I, love. I am, too. That's okay.
When I was young, I used to lay in my bed at night and cry myself to sleep, wondering if it would be as black and dark when I die as it was in my bedroom. I know how she feels--but never had a parent who would hold me through those nights. I was always "overreacting."
My baby girl sleeps with me tonight. She needs me. I need her, too.
Life is too damn short.
domingo, 14 de septiembre de 2008
the lone box of raisins
Mama Llama failed her Princesita.
She was sent to the first grade on Friday with the belief that she would be purchasing herself some pizza. Her Friday "treat"...and Mama Llama's once a week treat of not having to pack lunch. Just a little perk.
It was talked about Thursday night after Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep was said. It was met with great enthusiasm, hugs, kisses and "Thank you, Mama!" So I assumed...
I have since learned that my darling princesita forgot.
Mama Llama, of course, also forgot to remind her on Friday morning.
And she thought that all I packed her for lunch was a tiny little box of raisins (for afternoon snacktime) and a bottle of water.
So all my baby girl had on Friday to eat was a lone box of raisins. "But Mama," she said, in an evident effort to dry my I Have Failed As A Mother tears, "I drank my entire bottle of water!"
Oh, darling little girl.
Whoever knew that one single box of raisins could bring a mother to her knees, humbling me so?
She was sent to the first grade on Friday with the belief that she would be purchasing herself some pizza. Her Friday "treat"...and Mama Llama's once a week treat of not having to pack lunch. Just a little perk.
It was talked about Thursday night after Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep was said. It was met with great enthusiasm, hugs, kisses and "Thank you, Mama!" So I assumed...
I have since learned that my darling princesita forgot.
Mama Llama, of course, also forgot to remind her on Friday morning.
And she thought that all I packed her for lunch was a tiny little box of raisins (for afternoon snacktime) and a bottle of water.
So all my baby girl had on Friday to eat was a lone box of raisins. "But Mama," she said, in an evident effort to dry my I Have Failed As A Mother tears, "I drank my entire bottle of water!"
Oh, darling little girl.
Whoever knew that one single box of raisins could bring a mother to her knees, humbling me so?
sábado, 6 de septiembre de 2008
the perfection of Hanna
It rained today.
Perhaps that is an understatement. My local neighborhood raingauge read 9 inches, all of which fell, with the exception of some light overnight moisture, mainly between the hours of 10 a.m. and 5 p.m.
We watched it rain all day. Saturday Morning Cartoons broke a bit of the monotony of the earlier storm hours, and then we played games and did puzzles to fill the afternoon hours. At times there were some exciting gusts of wind, making us want for more as we watched the sheets of rain dance along the flooded street. However, with no tornado watches, no thunderclaps and no transformer explosions, it made for a relatively uneventful tropical storm pass.
Some are not so fortunate, as I have friends who are shop-vaccing out their basements as we speak. Thank God we had that french drain job done five years ago--right before Isabel hit us. It has kept the basement dry since.
After a delicious dinner served up by the Crock-Pot Queen, the Young Prince and I strode off, hand-in-hand, in the glorious post-storm wind gusts and clearing skies. Sidewalks are never as clean as they are following storms like this; the air is crisp and the different layers of clouds create a dizzying effect as I watch the darker, closer ones race through the lower atmosphere with the upper level white on blue sky serving as a somewhat less speedy backdrop.
As we jumped over puddles and muddy patches, we watched squirrels madly scrounging for the nuts that trees had released in the winds. I explained the mechanics behind rain gutters, sump pumps and flooded yards; and we could see with a leaf-created line in the neighbor's lawn just how high the water had come along the street during the height of the storm.
Returning home, we decided it was time to take advantage of a gardenful of pliable soil, so the Young Prince grabbed his Tonka Dumptruck and I grabbed handfuls of weeds and effortlessly ripped them from the mulch. I created small piles of weeds and the Young Prince dutifully loaded up the dumptruck and towed them away to the large pile that will go into the compost tomorrow, happily chattering the entire time.
We had to surrender to the darkness; neither of us wanted to end our cool, humid garden time but so had arrived the hour of being unable to see enough of the weeds anymore to make a difference. I did not bother to wear gloves today as I wanted to feel the cool, wet earth between my fingers and was in the mood to dig the dirt out from under my fingernails.
It had been so long since a good soaking rain was enjoyed. The crickets sound happy, the worms were squiggling gaily...
...there was a thirst. And it was quenched. Perfectly so.
Perhaps that is an understatement. My local neighborhood raingauge read 9 inches, all of which fell, with the exception of some light overnight moisture, mainly between the hours of 10 a.m. and 5 p.m.
We watched it rain all day. Saturday Morning Cartoons broke a bit of the monotony of the earlier storm hours, and then we played games and did puzzles to fill the afternoon hours. At times there were some exciting gusts of wind, making us want for more as we watched the sheets of rain dance along the flooded street. However, with no tornado watches, no thunderclaps and no transformer explosions, it made for a relatively uneventful tropical storm pass.
Some are not so fortunate, as I have friends who are shop-vaccing out their basements as we speak. Thank God we had that french drain job done five years ago--right before Isabel hit us. It has kept the basement dry since.
After a delicious dinner served up by the Crock-Pot Queen, the Young Prince and I strode off, hand-in-hand, in the glorious post-storm wind gusts and clearing skies. Sidewalks are never as clean as they are following storms like this; the air is crisp and the different layers of clouds create a dizzying effect as I watch the darker, closer ones race through the lower atmosphere with the upper level white on blue sky serving as a somewhat less speedy backdrop.
As we jumped over puddles and muddy patches, we watched squirrels madly scrounging for the nuts that trees had released in the winds. I explained the mechanics behind rain gutters, sump pumps and flooded yards; and we could see with a leaf-created line in the neighbor's lawn just how high the water had come along the street during the height of the storm.
Returning home, we decided it was time to take advantage of a gardenful of pliable soil, so the Young Prince grabbed his Tonka Dumptruck and I grabbed handfuls of weeds and effortlessly ripped them from the mulch. I created small piles of weeds and the Young Prince dutifully loaded up the dumptruck and towed them away to the large pile that will go into the compost tomorrow, happily chattering the entire time.
We had to surrender to the darkness; neither of us wanted to end our cool, humid garden time but so had arrived the hour of being unable to see enough of the weeds anymore to make a difference. I did not bother to wear gloves today as I wanted to feel the cool, wet earth between my fingers and was in the mood to dig the dirt out from under my fingernails.
It had been so long since a good soaking rain was enjoyed. The crickets sound happy, the worms were squiggling gaily...
...there was a thirst. And it was quenched. Perfectly so.
sábado, 30 de agosto de 2008
my baby boy
...is no longer my baby.
He turns four years old on Sunday. Tomorrow.
This little cuddlebug at my side, my little protector, the little guy who cannot go to sleep without being wrapped in the embrace of his mama is the light of my life. Together with his sister, they complete my existence.
I could not imagine my life without them, and I thank my God each and every day for placing them in my charge, as their mother, their guide for Life.
They have matching dimples, only one, but hers is on her right cheek and his is on his left. Such beautiful, beautiful children, both inside and out.
Being the younger brother often places the Young Prince in an interesting position when it comes to manicures and pedicures, make-up application and dress-up games. I have a small, complementary collection of clear nail polish (in a green bottle as he loves green), chap stick and large kerchiefs--skirts for Princesita that moonlight as superhero capes for my little Superman.
Little Ponies and Barbies rendezvous daily with Power Rangers and Batman. My Princesita is a very patient teacher and my Young Prince basks in the attention that only best friends could mutually give.
He is now at the age that permits him to comprehend games and play well. The past few weeks have marked a huge growth for him, not only in the understanding of card games but also in the fun play, the good-natured jabbing and the learning to be a gracious winner and loser. My blogging time has been taken over by game and puzzle-filled engagement of his ripe mind, ready to learn and starting to play alone with his sister.
I am starting to see him become his own person--and I am so proud of him.
Tomorrow we will have a small party here, for close friends and their siblings. Messy fun, tye-dying t-shirts and munching down on a Spiderman-decorated ice cream cake will highlight the festivities.
Both he and his sister were so excited for tomorrow to come, neither could fall asleep easily tonight.
Happy Birthday, my darling little love. May you always be my baby boy.
He turns four years old on Sunday. Tomorrow.
This little cuddlebug at my side, my little protector, the little guy who cannot go to sleep without being wrapped in the embrace of his mama is the light of my life. Together with his sister, they complete my existence.
I could not imagine my life without them, and I thank my God each and every day for placing them in my charge, as their mother, their guide for Life.
They have matching dimples, only one, but hers is on her right cheek and his is on his left. Such beautiful, beautiful children, both inside and out.
Being the younger brother often places the Young Prince in an interesting position when it comes to manicures and pedicures, make-up application and dress-up games. I have a small, complementary collection of clear nail polish (in a green bottle as he loves green), chap stick and large kerchiefs--skirts for Princesita that moonlight as superhero capes for my little Superman.
Little Ponies and Barbies rendezvous daily with Power Rangers and Batman. My Princesita is a very patient teacher and my Young Prince basks in the attention that only best friends could mutually give.
He is now at the age that permits him to comprehend games and play well. The past few weeks have marked a huge growth for him, not only in the understanding of card games but also in the fun play, the good-natured jabbing and the learning to be a gracious winner and loser. My blogging time has been taken over by game and puzzle-filled engagement of his ripe mind, ready to learn and starting to play alone with his sister.
I am starting to see him become his own person--and I am so proud of him.
Tomorrow we will have a small party here, for close friends and their siblings. Messy fun, tye-dying t-shirts and munching down on a Spiderman-decorated ice cream cake will highlight the festivities.
Both he and his sister were so excited for tomorrow to come, neither could fall asleep easily tonight.
Happy Birthday, my darling little love. May you always be my baby boy.
martes, 26 de agosto de 2008
life lessons from Wall-E
This movie made me cry, Wall-E.
A birthday gift for Young Prince from She-Ra Fairy Godmother and her clan, we all went smuggling sippy-cups filled with water and snackie-bags of M&Ms into the old movie theatre (yes, vinyl seats and NO CUP HOLDERS! Imagine that...they still exist), Mama Llama with her small canister of soy-free treats and settled over two rows of seats. We did buy popcorn (one large bag that we split into six little plastic canisters for each child...canisters we REUSE from our home supplies), and the lights were never turned off in our theatre, so I personally think She-Ra should have had a partial discount.
At the very least on the popcorn.
I am not even quite sure how to begin all I felt while watching this movie. For an animated "children's" summer flick, I found it extremely profound, evoking anger, resentment, sadness, idealistic desires to Change The World that I once upon a time felt when living in Ecuador, frustration and a deep empathy.
I could write on the varying degrees of symbolism, satire, social statements and the priceless personification of the loveable robots and their cucaracha friend. Equally easy would be to reflect upon what I already do to play my part as a global citizen and what more I can do to be better.
As I cannot simply let a movie with a moral just be...
I asked my children what they took from the movie. Paraphrasing La Princesita (6 3/4 years), she was most taken by the lazy people who were so fat that they could hardly even walk. They would talk on screens to people who sat right next to them on floating chairs that transported them from one place to another, sipping their soda pop, unaware of anything else that was going on around them. Their only realities were what was flashing on the TV screens in front of them...until Wall-E interrupted two of them, who then became aware of this radical situation and these two came to see the beauty of their surroundings and enjoy the actual physical presence (as opposed to the virtual personality) of each other.
She also mentioned that no exercise and bad eating is just not good for you.
The Young Prince's (almost 4) synopsis was that Wall-E was stuck cleaning up the mess that the people had made, but the people didn't want to clean up their mess so they left Earth to go make a mess somewhere else.
He also really like when "the white robot" and Wall-E were in love.
Twinkies, pop culture references, Mass Shopping Giants and technology were interwoven into the plot to bring to mind all that we do today to trash this Earth. I found it ironic that the B&L (play on BJs?) giant that had taken control of not only the minimal clean-up "effort" on Earth but had also created the outer space utopia upon which brainwashed humans could survive (not *live*, mind you, but merely survive, a distinct difference noted by the Captain of the spaceship) ended up being the same entity that had initially created Wall-E, who in turn opened the eyes of the ignorant humans, created allies among robots previously programmed to merely complete their tasks, and empowered the humans to return to Life...and to bring life back to Earth.
Perhaps this is a statement as to what some of these powerhouses can do now so as to stave off the inevitable.
My children, in the meantime, remain even more staunch proponents of cars that run on trash, not gasoline.
A birthday gift for Young Prince from She-Ra Fairy Godmother and her clan, we all went smuggling sippy-cups filled with water and snackie-bags of M&Ms into the old movie theatre (yes, vinyl seats and NO CUP HOLDERS! Imagine that...they still exist), Mama Llama with her small canister of soy-free treats and settled over two rows of seats. We did buy popcorn (one large bag that we split into six little plastic canisters for each child...canisters we REUSE from our home supplies), and the lights were never turned off in our theatre, so I personally think She-Ra should have had a partial discount.
At the very least on the popcorn.
I am not even quite sure how to begin all I felt while watching this movie. For an animated "children's" summer flick, I found it extremely profound, evoking anger, resentment, sadness, idealistic desires to Change The World that I once upon a time felt when living in Ecuador, frustration and a deep empathy.
I could write on the varying degrees of symbolism, satire, social statements and the priceless personification of the loveable robots and their cucaracha friend. Equally easy would be to reflect upon what I already do to play my part as a global citizen and what more I can do to be better.
As I cannot simply let a movie with a moral just be...
I asked my children what they took from the movie. Paraphrasing La Princesita (6 3/4 years), she was most taken by the lazy people who were so fat that they could hardly even walk. They would talk on screens to people who sat right next to them on floating chairs that transported them from one place to another, sipping their soda pop, unaware of anything else that was going on around them. Their only realities were what was flashing on the TV screens in front of them...until Wall-E interrupted two of them, who then became aware of this radical situation and these two came to see the beauty of their surroundings and enjoy the actual physical presence (as opposed to the virtual personality) of each other.
She also mentioned that no exercise and bad eating is just not good for you.
The Young Prince's (almost 4) synopsis was that Wall-E was stuck cleaning up the mess that the people had made, but the people didn't want to clean up their mess so they left Earth to go make a mess somewhere else.
He also really like when "the white robot" and Wall-E were in love.
Twinkies, pop culture references, Mass Shopping Giants and technology were interwoven into the plot to bring to mind all that we do today to trash this Earth. I found it ironic that the B&L (play on BJs?) giant that had taken control of not only the minimal clean-up "effort" on Earth but had also created the outer space utopia upon which brainwashed humans could survive (not *live*, mind you, but merely survive, a distinct difference noted by the Captain of the spaceship) ended up being the same entity that had initially created Wall-E, who in turn opened the eyes of the ignorant humans, created allies among robots previously programmed to merely complete their tasks, and empowered the humans to return to Life...and to bring life back to Earth.
Perhaps this is a statement as to what some of these powerhouses can do now so as to stave off the inevitable.
My children, in the meantime, remain even more staunch proponents of cars that run on trash, not gasoline.
sábado, 16 de agosto de 2008
dreaming big
La Princesita looked at me very seriously.
"Mama, I want to be a scientist."
-Uh-huh. You can do whatever you want to do.
"But I also want to be a teacher."
-That shouldn't be a problem.
"But I also want to be one of those people who do things on a stage."
-An actress? Sure. You can do that.
I was starting to believe that this was going to be one of THOSE conversations. Of the *endless* kind.
"But I also want to be one of those people who talk on the TV in front of a camera."
-Okay.
"Mama, can I do all of that?"
She looked worried. Stressed. A six and a half-year old ought not look so stressed.
Okay, time to actually pay attention and apply myself.
-Sure, dear. Let's see...you can be a marine biologist who teaches students ...and you videotape your lessons so that others can watch them on the TV or the computer so they can learn from you.
The stress in her beautiful face broke into a big smile.
"Thanks, Mama. I knew you could figure it out. That is exactly what I want to be!"
May I always have the answers for her.
May she always dream big.
"Mama, I want to be a scientist."
-Uh-huh. You can do whatever you want to do.
"But I also want to be a teacher."
-That shouldn't be a problem.
"But I also want to be one of those people who do things on a stage."
-An actress? Sure. You can do that.
I was starting to believe that this was going to be one of THOSE conversations. Of the *endless* kind.
"But I also want to be one of those people who talk on the TV in front of a camera."
-Okay.
"Mama, can I do all of that?"
She looked worried. Stressed. A six and a half-year old ought not look so stressed.
Okay, time to actually pay attention and apply myself.
-Sure, dear. Let's see...you can be a marine biologist who teaches students ...and you videotape your lessons so that others can watch them on the TV or the computer so they can learn from you.
The stress in her beautiful face broke into a big smile.
"Thanks, Mama. I knew you could figure it out. That is exactly what I want to be!"
May I always have the answers for her.
May she always dream big.
lunes, 11 de agosto de 2008
teeth
La Princesita finally pulled Tooth #3 out last night.
This is the first tooth that the Tooth --um-- Llama has been able to capture, as Tooth #1 and Tooth #2 were lost. Literally.
The Tooth --um-- Llama Demands Results! (She's a trite type-A.) I guess the third time was the charm.
Tooth #4 isn't--well, shouldn't be--too far behind. La Princesita prefers to let Nature take its course, however, and the teeth are hanging by a single excrutiatingly-loose thread before she will finally take matters into her own hands.
All this thinking about our dental health got me thinking about teeth, and all kinds of interesting facts have come to mind:
1. Did you know that snails have over 25,000 teeth? And they are on the snail's tongue!
2. Elephants have six sets of teeth.
3. In México, the Tooth Fairy is the Tooth Mouse. A bit more verosimil...is there such word in English? That's what I get for blogging in English while watching Univisión. hmmm (thinking) ah!...A bit more...plausible...yep, that's the word...if you ask me. I would imagine a mouse in my house before a fairy in my lair-y. Yeah. Anyhow, I wonder if, in some countries, there is a Tooth Cucaracha. The Tooth Ratoncito ...sometimes called el Ratoncito Pérez (there's a story, I'll tell if asked!)...does leave a little treasure as well.
4. The words for dental floss in Spanish, hilo dental, is what those smooth latinos call a G-string. Don't ask how I know that.
Okay, this post is going places I did not intend. Don't you forget to brush and, um, floss tonight!
ADDENDUM: Tooth 4 came out last night. This Tooth-llama is going broke!
This is the first tooth that the Tooth --um-- Llama has been able to capture, as Tooth #1 and Tooth #2 were lost. Literally.
The Tooth --um-- Llama Demands Results! (She's a trite type-A.) I guess the third time was the charm.
Tooth #4 isn't--well, shouldn't be--too far behind. La Princesita prefers to let Nature take its course, however, and the teeth are hanging by a single excrutiatingly-loose thread before she will finally take matters into her own hands.
All this thinking about our dental health got me thinking about teeth, and all kinds of interesting facts have come to mind:
1. Did you know that snails have over 25,000 teeth? And they are on the snail's tongue!
2. Elephants have six sets of teeth.
3. In México, the Tooth Fairy is the Tooth Mouse. A bit more verosimil...is there such word in English? That's what I get for blogging in English while watching Univisión. hmmm (thinking) ah!...A bit more...plausible...yep, that's the word...if you ask me. I would imagine a mouse in my house before a fairy in my lair-y. Yeah. Anyhow, I wonder if, in some countries, there is a Tooth Cucaracha. The Tooth Ratoncito ...sometimes called el Ratoncito Pérez (there's a story, I'll tell if asked!)...does leave a little treasure as well.
4. The words for dental floss in Spanish, hilo dental, is what those smooth latinos call a G-string. Don't ask how I know that.
Okay, this post is going places I did not intend. Don't you forget to brush and, um, floss tonight!
ADDENDUM: Tooth 4 came out last night. This Tooth-llama is going broke!
miércoles, 6 de agosto de 2008
hot-n-steamy sex scene
Yeah! Did that grab your attention?
So it did mine, as Millie and Alejandro are finally making IT happen in a dreamlike beach bungalow with only the night sky as their witness on the only Latin telenovela I currently watch.
Then the Young Prince appears, face in my face:
"Mommy, what is the Boogey-monster?"
--It's the monster that lives in your nose.--I try to move my eye contact greedily around the big round head that just presented itself between me and the only sex in my life right now.
Lips devouring lips, arms embracing, both perfectly dressed in white linen that flutters like flags of surrender in the breeze of the deserted isle.
"What does he eat?"
-Who?
"The Boogey-monster."
-Your finger.
"What if I use a Kleenex?"
-Boogey-monsters don't like Kleenex.
Tiki-torches shed flickering light over the lovers as they embrace, Millie over Alejandro, as they profess their undying love to one another.
"So if they don't like Kleenex, what else to they eat?" He moves his head again between me and my steamy sex scene. I am starting to get impatient, hearing less and less of what he is saying.
-Um...they eat fingernails.
"And what do they drink?"
Dude, kid. --Booga juice.
It was the only thing that came to mind.
Morning came. Dawn on the beach after a night of what supposedly was passionate, deeply penetrating and emotion-ridden, "finally they're doing it!" sex.
And I missed it. All for a deep conversation, that could not (of course) wait, about boogas.
Gotta love inquisitive kids.
So it did mine, as Millie and Alejandro are finally making IT happen in a dreamlike beach bungalow with only the night sky as their witness on the only Latin telenovela I currently watch.
Then the Young Prince appears, face in my face:
"Mommy, what is the Boogey-monster?"
--It's the monster that lives in your nose.--I try to move my eye contact greedily around the big round head that just presented itself between me and the only sex in my life right now.
Lips devouring lips, arms embracing, both perfectly dressed in white linen that flutters like flags of surrender in the breeze of the deserted isle.
"What does he eat?"
-Who?
"The Boogey-monster."
-Your finger.
"What if I use a Kleenex?"
-Boogey-monsters don't like Kleenex.
Tiki-torches shed flickering light over the lovers as they embrace, Millie over Alejandro, as they profess their undying love to one another.
"So if they don't like Kleenex, what else to they eat?" He moves his head again between me and my steamy sex scene. I am starting to get impatient, hearing less and less of what he is saying.
-Um...they eat fingernails.
"And what do they drink?"
Dude, kid. --Booga juice.
It was the only thing that came to mind.
Morning came. Dawn on the beach after a night of what supposedly was passionate, deeply penetrating and emotion-ridden, "finally they're doing it!" sex.
And I missed it. All for a deep conversation, that could not (of course) wait, about boogas.
Gotta love inquisitive kids.
domingo, 3 de agosto de 2008
sweet slumber
And Saturday I slept.
Ahhhhh! Finally!
The world is a sweeter place when not seen through sleep-deprived eyes. Hope is visible, panic is down and clarity abounds.
The courage is not yet with me. I wish I could talk to my children's father and get the ball rolling. But I would rather practice avoidance right now. That isn't healthier, but it sure is easier.
Today the monitos and I spent six hours at the local 4-H fair and then, upon returning home I finished washing the sheets, making the beds and mowed our front and back lawns (the house is on just under 1/3 acre, and on a slope, so mowing is a rather big job). I should get some of those little goats we saw out at the fair today to come live with us during the summer; that would keep my lawn well-tended.
Tomorrow I am leaving for the day and not looking back. I will take my laptop so that I can work, but outside the house or I will end up being stuck doing all the meals for everybody--including him--that I should not have to do on my "not" custody time. We had decided last year on a split-time "practice" custody that always ends up leaving me with the kids when he is supposed to have them. If I don't just leave the house without looking back, that will happen again as he will not stand up for his time with them. That is just the way he is; not meant to be criticism but rather a mere observation. I want them to have time with him; both he and they need and deserve it.
It is obvious that they are all waiting for me to put food on the table tonight, so I suppose I must sign off to fulfill my role. I haven't had a chance to get to the store to get myself a nice bottle of red wine, so I guess I won't get my glass tonight. Too bad--the breeze is lovely, humidity is uncharacteristically low and the sky is *almost* the blue of an autumn sky we will start to see in September.
I usually dread the beginning of fall. This year, I daresay I actually am looking forward to it!
Ahhhhh! Finally!
The world is a sweeter place when not seen through sleep-deprived eyes. Hope is visible, panic is down and clarity abounds.
The courage is not yet with me. I wish I could talk to my children's father and get the ball rolling. But I would rather practice avoidance right now. That isn't healthier, but it sure is easier.
Today the monitos and I spent six hours at the local 4-H fair and then, upon returning home I finished washing the sheets, making the beds and mowed our front and back lawns (the house is on just under 1/3 acre, and on a slope, so mowing is a rather big job). I should get some of those little goats we saw out at the fair today to come live with us during the summer; that would keep my lawn well-tended.
Tomorrow I am leaving for the day and not looking back. I will take my laptop so that I can work, but outside the house or I will end up being stuck doing all the meals for everybody--including him--that I should not have to do on my "not" custody time. We had decided last year on a split-time "practice" custody that always ends up leaving me with the kids when he is supposed to have them. If I don't just leave the house without looking back, that will happen again as he will not stand up for his time with them. That is just the way he is; not meant to be criticism but rather a mere observation. I want them to have time with him; both he and they need and deserve it.
It is obvious that they are all waiting for me to put food on the table tonight, so I suppose I must sign off to fulfill my role. I haven't had a chance to get to the store to get myself a nice bottle of red wine, so I guess I won't get my glass tonight. Too bad--the breeze is lovely, humidity is uncharacteristically low and the sky is *almost* the blue of an autumn sky we will start to see in September.
I usually dread the beginning of fall. This year, I daresay I actually am looking forward to it!
domingo, 27 de julio de 2008
the first monarch
We have had Tiger Swallowtails, Cabbage, Baltimores, and various Skipper butterflies gracing my garden--but not one monarch until today!
Tickling my purple Butterfly Bush, taking in the sweet nectar was a solitary Monarch. Even a few passers-by stopped to admire the sight. My children were thrilled.
As was I.
The joy does, indeed, lie in the details.
Tickling my purple Butterfly Bush, taking in the sweet nectar was a solitary Monarch. Even a few passers-by stopped to admire the sight. My children were thrilled.
As was I.
The joy does, indeed, lie in the details.
miércoles, 11 de junio de 2008
last day of preschool
Mama Llama did not make it through the Last Day of Preschool very well today.
Although the Young Prince has not completely finished his Preschool Career (he will go two more years--next year at three mornings a week, and the year after a full five as a pre-K), we did have to graduate from his current teacher's class.
He adores Mrs. F and had an absolutely wonderful first year of school.
Mrs. F was La Princesita's first teacher as well, and met The Young Prince when he was just less than a week old. She, as most first teachers are in the lives of young children, was the first outside of the family circle to give instruction, criticism and discipline to both of my children, and their extremely positive first experience with school created in them a love of school and a respect for their teachers.
As giving away the crib and the baby items when The Young Prince grew out of them, today was just another step toward showing me that I have now entered a new stage of Life. I jokingly told Mrs. F, smiling through my tears, that I will not have any more children just so that they can have her for their first teacher. She laughed...and then told me that I am one of those good parents.
After yesterday's events, it was really nice to hear that.
I will miss Mrs. F, although will return to visit on occasion. The preschool is made up of three separate houses, and she is in the first on the block with the youngest children, where the main office is also housed.
I dread thinking of what it will be like for his final graduation from preschool. I'll be an absolute mess. Why do I have to be so damn emotional?
Although the Young Prince has not completely finished his Preschool Career (he will go two more years--next year at three mornings a week, and the year after a full five as a pre-K), we did have to graduate from his current teacher's class.
He adores Mrs. F and had an absolutely wonderful first year of school.
Mrs. F was La Princesita's first teacher as well, and met The Young Prince when he was just less than a week old. She, as most first teachers are in the lives of young children, was the first outside of the family circle to give instruction, criticism and discipline to both of my children, and their extremely positive first experience with school created in them a love of school and a respect for their teachers.
As giving away the crib and the baby items when The Young Prince grew out of them, today was just another step toward showing me that I have now entered a new stage of Life. I jokingly told Mrs. F, smiling through my tears, that I will not have any more children just so that they can have her for their first teacher. She laughed...and then told me that I am one of those good parents.
After yesterday's events, it was really nice to hear that.
I will miss Mrs. F, although will return to visit on occasion. The preschool is made up of three separate houses, and she is in the first on the block with the youngest children, where the main office is also housed.
I dread thinking of what it will be like for his final graduation from preschool. I'll be an absolute mess. Why do I have to be so damn emotional?
martes, 10 de junio de 2008
psycho mother from hell
Okay, granted I live in "Alpha Mom" land.
This is the term I have given to the tendency, that I am certain exists everywhere but here, in Ivy League Corridor, is especially prevalent among mothers to push their children to be involved in everything, to have every last minute of their waking hours scheduled with activity after activity, and doing their homework for them and ensuring that their good name as parents is maintained through the overachievement of their youngsters.
But today's events blindsided me.
I had my strong feelings about this particular mother the first time we met, in the produce section of Whole Paycheck. It was Valentine's Day, a day I do not observe except to make valentines with my children, and she was in a panic regarding what kind of chocolate she ought to purchase for the special "dessert" of the night.
With my (nasty) mind, of course, I was thinking, 'Why, the most spreadable possible...'
But we had just met and I did not want her getting the wrong idea about me (a-hem).
So then she asked what I would do and, as I opened my mouth to answer, another flood of other worries came rushing out at me and I had to grasp my shopping cart so as to not be knocked over with the flood.
Okay, so I exaggerate just a bit. Point is, every time I opened my mouth to answer a question she posed to me, she herself went on as if it were hypothetical. No problem, I thought...we just met, sometimes we all get a little nervous when we first meet someone but...ay ay ay. I don't know if I can take this woman.
Over margaritas at Artie's a couple nights later I mentioned this to my girlfriends. One had been an expressive therapist with a local hospital, and she said that this lady sounds like many of her patients. "Just be nice but stay at a distance," I was advised.
P.M. (Psycho Mom) telephoned to inquire if La Princesita would be interested in a playdate. I explained that, during the days I (at that time) was with various students and I really didn't feel comfortable having other children at my home when I could not be 100% available for supervision...nor did I want to take unfair advantage of an offer that would turn into "childcare" since I would be working. She countered that she could also be at my house but then quickly added, "And don't worry, I wouldn't go through your purse or be getting into your personal belongings or anything."
I honestly did not know what to think about that remark, and could not figure out how on Earth such a thought could occur to somebody.
Over the course of the past couple of months, her daughter and mine happened to be on the same T-ball team, and her husband was the coach. I can take him with a grain of salt, and as she and I got to know each other a bit more, I felt that she relaxed more and we watched many games together and actually enjoyed our time together with the other parents watching the games. A little intense at times, but we all have our quirks, right? She's human, and I am all about giving new acquaintances the benefit of the doubt--especially if we are going to be potentially "connected" for the next 12 years through the schooling of our daughters.
So...
Today she called me, extremely upset by the fact that the kindergarten class, as well as the 1st and 2nd grade classes in the same corridor of the elementary school, was in their second day without air conditioning. She was disturbed by the fact that the children had to go to another classroom and sit on the floor for part of their classtime today. They were slated to take a standardized test today which was postponed until tomorrow due to the uncomfortable classroom conditions. Curriculum teaching is essentially over; the school year ends on Friday.
She had been on the telephone to various "powers that be" yesterday to complain. From the response, I am judging that this is not the first that They have heard from Her this school year.
So what happened today?
She "made" me telephone on her behalf 1) the County Board of Supervisors to find out to whom to complain, and then 2) the School System Main Offices to report and to find out what is wrong.
"Made" me...allow me to explain. She insisted on making a three-way conference call ("HA! My first threesome," I joked. She actually got it.) and then on remaining silent on the other line in order to "listen in" on what was said...as if to verify that I would actually make the call? The nerve. But what unfortunately got me involved was the indirect definition with which she assessed others' parenting, by stating that full-time working mothers, of course, cannot be on the phone all the time about these matters but those of us who are not working full-time should be on the phone for the good of our children and the benefit of their education, standing up for them and not letting things slide...in other words, imposing that BAD mommies don't call, GOOD mommies do call.
That, of course, in my present mental and emotional state, is a raw spot with me and I won't have anyone questioning my parenting. I tried to rationalize everything with her calmly, explaining that they were trying to not have to extend the school year another day into next week and making everything work, that the children were not upset and, instead had a great time. If it had been for a week at the beginning of, say, May when curriculum was still being taught and there was no evidence of anything being done to remedy the situation--well, then things would have been different.
But this is one of the best school districts in the country. That does not happen here, and apparently there are some parents who still look for any problem spots, no matter how microscopic in nature, and make the mountain out of the proverbial molehill. I spoke to another mother who knows P.M. and she told me horror story after horror story of what she has had to deal with being co-room parents with her...and what the kindergarten teachers think of her, let alone the PTA President and the principal.
Yikes. Unfortunately, the one who will end up suffering will inevitably be her daughter. This other mother with whom I spoke has a child diagnosed this year with ADHD, and she said that this woman demonstrates how ADHD, when not worked with, manifests in adults. Incapability of reading social cues. Mind whirring at 100 mph without realizing that things are not operating in a linear fashion. Intense in her dealings with people. She needs understanding--but at the same time, she needs to not corner people in the way she cornered me today, or she will only succeed in isolating herself.
Fortunately I am extremely diplomatic, I can make inquiries and find out information without anyone feeling threatened--and basically, as the adage goes, tell someone I don't know to go to hell and make them look forward to the trip.
But not to her. We must peacefully coexist for a long time to come, and that will not solve anything.
Time to put this caller ID to good use.
This is the term I have given to the tendency, that I am certain exists everywhere but here, in Ivy League Corridor, is especially prevalent among mothers to push their children to be involved in everything, to have every last minute of their waking hours scheduled with activity after activity, and doing their homework for them and ensuring that their good name as parents is maintained through the overachievement of their youngsters.
But today's events blindsided me.
I had my strong feelings about this particular mother the first time we met, in the produce section of Whole Paycheck. It was Valentine's Day, a day I do not observe except to make valentines with my children, and she was in a panic regarding what kind of chocolate she ought to purchase for the special "dessert" of the night.
With my (nasty) mind, of course, I was thinking, 'Why, the most spreadable possible...'
But we had just met and I did not want her getting the wrong idea about me (a-hem).
So then she asked what I would do and, as I opened my mouth to answer, another flood of other worries came rushing out at me and I had to grasp my shopping cart so as to not be knocked over with the flood.
Okay, so I exaggerate just a bit. Point is, every time I opened my mouth to answer a question she posed to me, she herself went on as if it were hypothetical. No problem, I thought...we just met, sometimes we all get a little nervous when we first meet someone but...ay ay ay. I don't know if I can take this woman.
Over margaritas at Artie's a couple nights later I mentioned this to my girlfriends. One had been an expressive therapist with a local hospital, and she said that this lady sounds like many of her patients. "Just be nice but stay at a distance," I was advised.
P.M. (Psycho Mom) telephoned to inquire if La Princesita would be interested in a playdate. I explained that, during the days I (at that time) was with various students and I really didn't feel comfortable having other children at my home when I could not be 100% available for supervision...nor did I want to take unfair advantage of an offer that would turn into "childcare" since I would be working. She countered that she could also be at my house but then quickly added, "And don't worry, I wouldn't go through your purse or be getting into your personal belongings or anything."
I honestly did not know what to think about that remark, and could not figure out how on Earth such a thought could occur to somebody.
Over the course of the past couple of months, her daughter and mine happened to be on the same T-ball team, and her husband was the coach. I can take him with a grain of salt, and as she and I got to know each other a bit more, I felt that she relaxed more and we watched many games together and actually enjoyed our time together with the other parents watching the games. A little intense at times, but we all have our quirks, right? She's human, and I am all about giving new acquaintances the benefit of the doubt--especially if we are going to be potentially "connected" for the next 12 years through the schooling of our daughters.
So...
Today she called me, extremely upset by the fact that the kindergarten class, as well as the 1st and 2nd grade classes in the same corridor of the elementary school, was in their second day without air conditioning. She was disturbed by the fact that the children had to go to another classroom and sit on the floor for part of their classtime today. They were slated to take a standardized test today which was postponed until tomorrow due to the uncomfortable classroom conditions. Curriculum teaching is essentially over; the school year ends on Friday.
She had been on the telephone to various "powers that be" yesterday to complain. From the response, I am judging that this is not the first that They have heard from Her this school year.
So what happened today?
She "made" me telephone on her behalf 1) the County Board of Supervisors to find out to whom to complain, and then 2) the School System Main Offices to report and to find out what is wrong.
"Made" me...allow me to explain. She insisted on making a three-way conference call ("HA! My first threesome," I joked. She actually got it.) and then on remaining silent on the other line in order to "listen in" on what was said...as if to verify that I would actually make the call? The nerve. But what unfortunately got me involved was the indirect definition with which she assessed others' parenting, by stating that full-time working mothers, of course, cannot be on the phone all the time about these matters but those of us who are not working full-time should be on the phone for the good of our children and the benefit of their education, standing up for them and not letting things slide...in other words, imposing that BAD mommies don't call, GOOD mommies do call.
That, of course, in my present mental and emotional state, is a raw spot with me and I won't have anyone questioning my parenting. I tried to rationalize everything with her calmly, explaining that they were trying to not have to extend the school year another day into next week and making everything work, that the children were not upset and, instead had a great time. If it had been for a week at the beginning of, say, May when curriculum was still being taught and there was no evidence of anything being done to remedy the situation--well, then things would have been different.
But this is one of the best school districts in the country. That does not happen here, and apparently there are some parents who still look for any problem spots, no matter how microscopic in nature, and make the mountain out of the proverbial molehill. I spoke to another mother who knows P.M. and she told me horror story after horror story of what she has had to deal with being co-room parents with her...and what the kindergarten teachers think of her, let alone the PTA President and the principal.
Yikes. Unfortunately, the one who will end up suffering will inevitably be her daughter. This other mother with whom I spoke has a child diagnosed this year with ADHD, and she said that this woman demonstrates how ADHD, when not worked with, manifests in adults. Incapability of reading social cues. Mind whirring at 100 mph without realizing that things are not operating in a linear fashion. Intense in her dealings with people. She needs understanding--but at the same time, she needs to not corner people in the way she cornered me today, or she will only succeed in isolating herself.
Fortunately I am extremely diplomatic, I can make inquiries and find out information without anyone feeling threatened--and basically, as the adage goes, tell someone I don't know to go to hell and make them look forward to the trip.
But not to her. We must peacefully coexist for a long time to come, and that will not solve anything.
Time to put this caller ID to good use.
lunes, 9 de junio de 2008
stung!
The Young Prince had his first bee sting this morning while at preschool.
And with a bang!
Details are sketchy as nobody saw the culprit, but he was stung twice, probably by a wasp or a yellowjacket. I can still see the sting marks on his arm.
When I got to his classroom to pick him up at noon and the teachers told me, I asked him to show me. He looked at me and said, "Yes, Mommy, but it's all over now, ok?"
Well, okay then!
There was also no air conditioning in La Princesita's classroom today...nor in any of the classrooms of the same corridor of her elementary school. So they had their little Parents' Program today in the music room instead (giving each of us a carnation at the end of the show!) and then were excused for the day.
No A/C is a big deal today as we are under a Heat Advisory until Tuesday night, with heat indices to reach up to 110ºF (that is over 43ºC). Code Red air quality, so busses are free to ride. It's nasty...and it's not even August.
The other big news...my telenovela, Yo amo a Juan Querendón, is about to end (sob). I have drooled over Eduardo Santamarina now for a year and I will be in mourning come Monday June 23.
So the good:
1. Learning the Young Prince does not appear to be allergic to bees. Good to know.
2. Getting an impromptu "Girl's Date" with La Princesita thanks to no air conditioning.
3. I'd like to design an advanced/conversation course around this telenovela, however, so I guess I'm ready for it to end so that I'll just have to buy the disc set when it comes out!
And with a bang!
Details are sketchy as nobody saw the culprit, but he was stung twice, probably by a wasp or a yellowjacket. I can still see the sting marks on his arm.
When I got to his classroom to pick him up at noon and the teachers told me, I asked him to show me. He looked at me and said, "Yes, Mommy, but it's all over now, ok?"
Well, okay then!
There was also no air conditioning in La Princesita's classroom today...nor in any of the classrooms of the same corridor of her elementary school. So they had their little Parents' Program today in the music room instead (giving each of us a carnation at the end of the show!) and then were excused for the day.
No A/C is a big deal today as we are under a Heat Advisory until Tuesday night, with heat indices to reach up to 110ºF (that is over 43ºC). Code Red air quality, so busses are free to ride. It's nasty...and it's not even August.
The other big news...my telenovela, Yo amo a Juan Querendón, is about to end (sob). I have drooled over Eduardo Santamarina now for a year and I will be in mourning come Monday June 23.
So the good:
1. Learning the Young Prince does not appear to be allergic to bees. Good to know.
2. Getting an impromptu "Girl's Date" with La Princesita thanks to no air conditioning.
3. I'd like to design an advanced/conversation course around this telenovela, however, so I guess I'm ready for it to end so that I'll just have to buy the disc set when it comes out!
viernes, 6 de junio de 2008
wicked wedgie woman
We just Freecycled out twelve pair of girls' underwear. (Yes, there are some Freecyclers who will take just about anything.)
Why? La Princesita was complaining about how much they give her wedgies.
Or rather, that should be wedgies ...!
I didn't even know what a wedgie was when I was 6. This is an education stemming, no doubt, from the Great Literary Tradition of Captain Underpants.
This turn of events caused me to remember a conversation had with girlfriends over wine one afternoon, back when we used to go winery touring and tasting once or twice a year. The dialogue somehow led to underwear (of course, over a bottle of wine, great cheese, amazing chocolate--well, anything can come out!) and what unmentionables we would wear or not.
Obviously we arrived at thongs. The majority vote was, "Hell No, Won't Go."
However I opened my big mouth and piped up, "My rule: Always wear a thong with khakis."
??? I was met with a table of quizzical looks.
"What? No pantylines that way." (At the time I was actively teaching at the local university) "When my backside is turned away from the students or I have to bend over for some reason, I don't want the first thing for them to see to be pantylines. And pantylines are a bane with khakis."
My companions were not convinced.
"It's not like I pull my bikinis up. That would just be painfully uncomfortable. The lovely thing about g-strings is that they are MADE to go where they go. It is natural thus not as uncomfortable. I can handle it for a day."
This conversation has not been forgotten by any involved.
Last night La Princesita and I were playing around before bed. She had her non-wedgie panties on and had "wedgied" them. I asked her, "Isn't that uncomfortable? I thought that's why you wanted me to get rid of your other panties."
Her reply?
"(giggle) It feels good, Mommy!"
Ay ay ay.
Is this an omen, that I have a bona fide thong-wearer, thus defined by the tender young age of 6 1/2 years?
Happy Friday, all!
Why? La Princesita was complaining about how much they give her wedgies.
Or rather, that should be wedgies ...!
I didn't even know what a wedgie was when I was 6. This is an education stemming, no doubt, from the Great Literary Tradition of Captain Underpants.
This turn of events caused me to remember a conversation had with girlfriends over wine one afternoon, back when we used to go winery touring and tasting once or twice a year. The dialogue somehow led to underwear (of course, over a bottle of wine, great cheese, amazing chocolate--well, anything can come out!) and what unmentionables we would wear or not.
Obviously we arrived at thongs. The majority vote was, "Hell No, Won't Go."
However I opened my big mouth and piped up, "My rule: Always wear a thong with khakis."
??? I was met with a table of quizzical looks.
"What? No pantylines that way." (At the time I was actively teaching at the local university) "When my backside is turned away from the students or I have to bend over for some reason, I don't want the first thing for them to see to be pantylines. And pantylines are a bane with khakis."
My companions were not convinced.
"It's not like I pull my bikinis up. That would just be painfully uncomfortable. The lovely thing about g-strings is that they are MADE to go where they go. It is natural thus not as uncomfortable. I can handle it for a day."
This conversation has not been forgotten by any involved.
Last night La Princesita and I were playing around before bed. She had her non-wedgie panties on and had "wedgied" them. I asked her, "Isn't that uncomfortable? I thought that's why you wanted me to get rid of your other panties."
Her reply?
"(giggle) It feels good, Mommy!"
Ay ay ay.
Is this an omen, that I have a bona fide thong-wearer, thus defined by the tender young age of 6 1/2 years?
Happy Friday, all!
domingo, 18 de mayo de 2008
proud mama
My little Princesita honestly never ceases to amaze me.
She is a beautiful, energetic and outgoing young lady. At six years old, she is starting to develop a wide range of hobbies and interests, both artistic and athletic, and has socially settled in extremely well to her elementary school.
She almost made a double play yesterday morning at T-ball--a play that would make almost any Mama Llama proud, when she, playing the pitcher's position, ran the ball up to home to out the home's runner, then threw the ball right to third--if the third base player had not been drawing pictures in the dirt with the toe of her shoe, it would have been a great play! Her little teammate is a dear, but does not yet have quite the attention span to really focus on the game--and her father is the coach, which already means she isn't going to pay perfect attention, almost by default.
Last week La Princesita and I decided to ride bikes over to her friend's home to play for the afternoon. We packed up some water and I led her through 2 1/2 miles of streets over to her friend's home, then a few hours later we rode home. Upon our return, she announced that her training wheels were "slowing her down" so I took a deep breath and removed them.
Over the course of four days she taught herself how to ride her bicycle without training wheels.
She did not put me through half of what I remember putting my father through when learning to ride without trainers. I remember his 6 foot 2 inch frame on my little bike, showing me that yes, it IS really possible and that the bicycle IS rideable. I remember him endlessly running down the road holding onto the back of my bike so I could get my balance.
I don't think I could thank my Princesita enough for NOT putting me through all that!!! Sorry, Dad, bless your soul, you haven't had your revenge quite yet!
We rode seven whole miles this morning, la Princesita and I. It was hard on her returning but she had a wonderful time and came home talking about all the beautiful nature we saw. We have something special we can do together now, shorter distances with her little brother (he rode a mile with us but training wheels started getting loose and I have decided I just need to now pack a wrench every time we leave with him on his bike) and it is really lovely time together, just she and I.
What has been even more poignant to me, however, has been watching her learn to master this new skill completely independent of me, except for my mere presence to give her the confidence and to make it "fun" by playing "traffic cop" while she and the Young Prince rode down the sidewalk. She has an incredibly strong will, motivation and focus that I so admire--yet is so fragile in that I can see (and have been told by a former teacher of hers) that I will never, ever have to push her as she is perhaps 10 times the perfectionist than I have ever been--and I am a perfectionist to the Nth degree.
*-----*
Not to leave the Young Prince out of this:
He ran to me on Friday when I came to pick him up from preschool, excitedly saying, "Mommy, Mommy, I got a sticker! I was the best helper!" He was obviously very pleased with himself, and his teacher (who also had been La Princesita's first preschool teacher) confirmed that indeed, he had helped clean-up more than all the other students in the class. And he knew he had done well.
He then walks around the entire preschool class to give all of his little friends a hug good-bye for the day, and kisses the hands (or legs...whatever he can reach at the time) of his teachers. He very much follows his sister in his desire to Spread the Love--filling all with warm fuzzies and making me extremely proud.
Together, they have their moments, but all in all they play amazingly well, love to cuddle and feel incomplete without being able to kiss the other good night. I pray I can do all I can do to help them maintain this beautiful relationship they are developing.
I am one proud Mama Llama.
She is a beautiful, energetic and outgoing young lady. At six years old, she is starting to develop a wide range of hobbies and interests, both artistic and athletic, and has socially settled in extremely well to her elementary school.
She almost made a double play yesterday morning at T-ball--a play that would make almost any Mama Llama proud, when she, playing the pitcher's position, ran the ball up to home to out the home's runner, then threw the ball right to third--if the third base player had not been drawing pictures in the dirt with the toe of her shoe, it would have been a great play! Her little teammate is a dear, but does not yet have quite the attention span to really focus on the game--and her father is the coach, which already means she isn't going to pay perfect attention, almost by default.
Last week La Princesita and I decided to ride bikes over to her friend's home to play for the afternoon. We packed up some water and I led her through 2 1/2 miles of streets over to her friend's home, then a few hours later we rode home. Upon our return, she announced that her training wheels were "slowing her down" so I took a deep breath and removed them.
Over the course of four days she taught herself how to ride her bicycle without training wheels.
She did not put me through half of what I remember putting my father through when learning to ride without trainers. I remember his 6 foot 2 inch frame on my little bike, showing me that yes, it IS really possible and that the bicycle IS rideable. I remember him endlessly running down the road holding onto the back of my bike so I could get my balance.
I don't think I could thank my Princesita enough for NOT putting me through all that!!! Sorry, Dad, bless your soul, you haven't had your revenge quite yet!
We rode seven whole miles this morning, la Princesita and I. It was hard on her returning but she had a wonderful time and came home talking about all the beautiful nature we saw. We have something special we can do together now, shorter distances with her little brother (he rode a mile with us but training wheels started getting loose and I have decided I just need to now pack a wrench every time we leave with him on his bike) and it is really lovely time together, just she and I.
What has been even more poignant to me, however, has been watching her learn to master this new skill completely independent of me, except for my mere presence to give her the confidence and to make it "fun" by playing "traffic cop" while she and the Young Prince rode down the sidewalk. She has an incredibly strong will, motivation and focus that I so admire--yet is so fragile in that I can see (and have been told by a former teacher of hers) that I will never, ever have to push her as she is perhaps 10 times the perfectionist than I have ever been--and I am a perfectionist to the Nth degree.
*-----*
Not to leave the Young Prince out of this:
He ran to me on Friday when I came to pick him up from preschool, excitedly saying, "Mommy, Mommy, I got a sticker! I was the best helper!" He was obviously very pleased with himself, and his teacher (who also had been La Princesita's first preschool teacher) confirmed that indeed, he had helped clean-up more than all the other students in the class. And he knew he had done well.
He then walks around the entire preschool class to give all of his little friends a hug good-bye for the day, and kisses the hands (or legs...whatever he can reach at the time) of his teachers. He very much follows his sister in his desire to Spread the Love--filling all with warm fuzzies and making me extremely proud.
Together, they have their moments, but all in all they play amazingly well, love to cuddle and feel incomplete without being able to kiss the other good night. I pray I can do all I can do to help them maintain this beautiful relationship they are developing.
I am one proud Mama Llama.
sábado, 26 de abril de 2008
...and so it begins
La Princesita was kissed in school.
One of her little classmates has taken to chasing her around the playground at recess time, and last Friday he caught her and kissed her.
This has been dubbed "The Big Secret" of the A.M. Kindergarten Class.
And ALL the class mothers seem to know about it.
Fortunately, I have a relationship with mi princesita that permits her to tell me these things long before I hear about it "through the grapevine." She came home last week and told me all about it. So, as any Mama Llama would, I had some questions:
--First of all, are you complaining or is this just a secret?
--It's just a secret.
--Okay. (had to establish context...was this considered a "good" thing or a "bad" thing)
--So, what was happening when he kissed you?
--Oh, he was chasing me on the playground. Then he caught me and kissed me!
Great.
--Okay. Did you want him to kiss you?
--No.
--Did you tell him "no"?
--No.
Okay.
--Were you just playing?
--Yes. But he treats me like I'm his girlfriend.
What exactly this means in kindergarten, I'm afraid to ask.
--Do you want to be his girlfriend?
--No, not really. (I have since learned that she has a crush on another little boy--they are all really sweet boys, nice kids and gentle when playing with the girls, so that helps a bit...but there seems to be a bit of a triangulo amoroso in this kindergarten class...)
So this gives me motivation to talk to her about what not permitting someone else to tell her who she is or what she is supposed to be. If she does not want to be kissed, then she must say No! And not a "No!" while giggling and running away. I told her she needs to be clear if that is what she really wants. If she does that, and it persists, then she can go to her teacher. But I made it clear that, until she has made an effort to stop something she doesn't want happening, she can't go tattling to her teacher, and I will NOT get involved until after those two options have been exhausted.
I guess it is never too early to start the self-esteem brainwashing. You ARE strong, you CAN say no when you don't feel comfortable. You CANNOT allow someone else to define your own identity--you ARE who you are and you can NEVER let anyone else take that from you.
So she got a dose of that lecture, but in a more interactive, kindergarten-lingo-friendly manner. No glazed-over eyes, so I take that as a goodsign.
I have since learned that this little boy is a real little work of art; he apparently kissed one of La Princesita's t-ball teammates as well.
There are the movers. And then there are the shakers. Yes, even in Kindergarten.
One of her little classmates has taken to chasing her around the playground at recess time, and last Friday he caught her and kissed her.
This has been dubbed "The Big Secret" of the A.M. Kindergarten Class.
And ALL the class mothers seem to know about it.
Fortunately, I have a relationship with mi princesita that permits her to tell me these things long before I hear about it "through the grapevine." She came home last week and told me all about it. So, as any Mama Llama would, I had some questions:
--First of all, are you complaining or is this just a secret?
--It's just a secret.
--Okay. (had to establish context...was this considered a "good" thing or a "bad" thing)
--So, what was happening when he kissed you?
--Oh, he was chasing me on the playground. Then he caught me and kissed me!
Great.
--Okay. Did you want him to kiss you?
--No.
--Did you tell him "no"?
--No.
Okay.
--Were you just playing?
--Yes. But he treats me like I'm his girlfriend.
What exactly this means in kindergarten, I'm afraid to ask.
--Do you want to be his girlfriend?
--No, not really. (I have since learned that she has a crush on another little boy--they are all really sweet boys, nice kids and gentle when playing with the girls, so that helps a bit...but there seems to be a bit of a triangulo amoroso in this kindergarten class...)
So this gives me motivation to talk to her about what not permitting someone else to tell her who she is or what she is supposed to be. If she does not want to be kissed, then she must say No! And not a "No!" while giggling and running away. I told her she needs to be clear if that is what she really wants. If she does that, and it persists, then she can go to her teacher. But I made it clear that, until she has made an effort to stop something she doesn't want happening, she can't go tattling to her teacher, and I will NOT get involved until after those two options have been exhausted.
I guess it is never too early to start the self-esteem brainwashing. You ARE strong, you CAN say no when you don't feel comfortable. You CANNOT allow someone else to define your own identity--you ARE who you are and you can NEVER let anyone else take that from you.
So she got a dose of that lecture, but in a more interactive, kindergarten-lingo-friendly manner. No glazed-over eyes, so I take that as a goodsign.
I have since learned that this little boy is a real little work of art; he apparently kissed one of La Princesita's t-ball teammates as well.
There are the movers. And then there are the shakers. Yes, even in Kindergarten.
Suscribirse a:
Entradas (Atom)
