I asked Bela today if she wanted to go home or to the mall. She chose "Ma" so away we proceeded!
She had a ball running around Baby Gap, trying on hats and sunglasses, and finding all the dot-dot patterns.
I was especially excited about the sunflower-themed outfits. Alas, this is the best I can find on their site - the store had a much better selection including a teeny denim jacket and bucket hat. We also found some fantastic little red dot-dot shoes that match a little red dot-dot swimsuit. Ooo la la!!
She is my tomboy girl in every other regard still. She loves Spiderman, the drums, and playing soccer as much as my makeup, bling bling, and babies (which, she will correct you, are dolls).
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Semi-colon-ology
Not to be confused with the semi-colon-oscopy (do I have something wrong with my brain that I enjoy scatalogical humour?!? Or was it the way I was raised? Afterall, my bro sent me a forwarded email yesterday entitled "Never trust a fart." But, I digress...)
The story "Celebrating the Semi-Colon in a Most Unlikely Location" was the #1 most popular article on NYTimes yesterday. This is significant because it is a story all about grammar in the gritty streets of Gotham.
It is also significant because yesterday I was offered a full-time position as a textbook editor. Woohoo!!! The job is with the Educational Institute of the American Hotel & Lodging Association and is contingent upon the successful completion of a background check. There are no skeletons in my closet so methinks it is a done deal. For all of my puffery, I really do take a dim view of criminality.
Anyway, EI, as it is called, appears to be a very family-friendly environment. Part of my benefits package includes 10 vacation and 10 PTO (paid time off) days per year. Use it or lose it! Some people even bring their kids to work with them when the babysitter is sick, etc. Plus they like grammar and can probably appreciate things like a semi-colon used correctly. I've found my niche!
If you see my kids in the next 24 hours, however, do NOT mention the job. I am sure they sense something is up. Griffin told me today that Bela can have his old turtle backpack for "when she goes to school." And on our tour of Eastminster Child Development Center today, Bela refused to be anywhere but my arms for the first 30 minutes (which explains why my shoulders are killing me now). Brett and I are going to take the wee minis out to dinner, drive to the new office, and give them the news tomorrow night.
You, dear reader, are the first to know. Sort of, anyway. There is Griffin's nursery school teacher and some neighbors and all of the LansingMoms yahoo group - these were all places where I went to get leads on daycare options. And I can only relate this news where I can type it since G&B can't read yet.
The story "Celebrating the Semi-Colon in a Most Unlikely Location" was the #1 most popular article on NYTimes yesterday. This is significant because it is a story all about grammar in the gritty streets of Gotham.
It is also significant because yesterday I was offered a full-time position as a textbook editor. Woohoo!!! The job is with the Educational Institute of the American Hotel & Lodging Association and is contingent upon the successful completion of a background check. There are no skeletons in my closet so methinks it is a done deal. For all of my puffery, I really do take a dim view of criminality.
Anyway, EI, as it is called, appears to be a very family-friendly environment. Part of my benefits package includes 10 vacation and 10 PTO (paid time off) days per year. Use it or lose it! Some people even bring their kids to work with them when the babysitter is sick, etc. Plus they like grammar and can probably appreciate things like a semi-colon used correctly. I've found my niche!
If you see my kids in the next 24 hours, however, do NOT mention the job. I am sure they sense something is up. Griffin told me today that Bela can have his old turtle backpack for "when she goes to school." And on our tour of Eastminster Child Development Center today, Bela refused to be anywhere but my arms for the first 30 minutes (which explains why my shoulders are killing me now). Brett and I are going to take the wee minis out to dinner, drive to the new office, and give them the news tomorrow night.
You, dear reader, are the first to know. Sort of, anyway. There is Griffin's nursery school teacher and some neighbors and all of the LansingMoms yahoo group - these were all places where I went to get leads on daycare options. And I can only relate this news where I can type it since G&B can't read yet.
The Spark Before the Flame
I've re-copied here today's daily insight from Yoga Journal:
The mental "Pause" is one button I'm still learning to push. It is the basis of Screamfree Parenting and is something I have long sought. In fact, I remember driving to the YMCA last winter to swim with the kids and praying for the ability to pause before acting or speaking, just for a moment, to gather my thoughts and speak/act with intention. It is so easy to become distracted and react rather than respond.
Last night I watched Super Nanny help the family of Wendy Wilson (daughter of Beach Boy Brian Wilson; she is the skinnier sister from Wilson Phillips because surely that's how she is differentiated by people of a certain age.) Wendy and her husband have a 4 y.o., 3 y.o., and newborn twins. Egad!!!!
As I explained to Brett, I like Super Nanny because for the first 20 minutes I think "No way. Ugh-ugh. Oh Helllllll no!" as I watch the kids go buckwild on their parents, quite confident of what I would do differently in place of these idiots. The second third of the show is tougher; that's the part where I realize I am not so very different from the tv. parents, and in fact, might be an even crappier parent. The final 20 minutes are pure catharsis. We all have a good cry and thank JoJo for saving our family with her good-hearted whimsy and no-nonsense British sensibility.
What I liked last night is that I saw Wendy (who I identified with a lot) give her children stern warnings when they misbehaved, up to and including, "The Squeeze."
Ah, the squeeze.
I've felt squeamish about posting on that topic for awhile, wondering what in the hell readers must be thinking of me. I remember reading something Vicki Iovine once wrote about giving her toddlers a squeeze that brought tears to their eyes and swearing off of her completely (and thinking she was absolute pure evil, even if she writes a parenting column in Child magazine and is the parenting contributor for a whole bunch of daytime talk shows).
So, I suppose I can understand where some people might be worried about the welfare of my poor children. But it turns out, what I do is normal, not bad. Even JoJo thinks the level with which I squeeze is fine. Here, squeezing must be defined as holding onto a child's arm, wrist, or nape of neck with the intention to keep them in one place while effectively communicating to them the need to slow their body and mind. I think part of the problem before was that I did not define what it is that I do. What squeezing is not, is pinching. It is not done to induce pain but to bring the out-of-control child into attentiveness. The yank would be the extreme form of this method. I'm a lot less confident about the yank. In fact, I don't know if I am less embarassed now than I was then, but whatever.... Parenting can be HARD but the lessons I am learning are worth any measure of pain. My pain. Not my children's. But I can't stop them from feeling pain. And sometimes I will cause them pain, unintentionally.
Oh for crying out loud! Basta!! Basta!! Basta!!
I know from my vast newsletter-writing experiences this is too many words to copy for re-publication (the limit is 50 words); however, since this is for personal and/or entertainment use only, I think I'm legally OK. I know, I know... Who cares? :)The key to transforming your relationship to stress is to stop letting it overwhelm you. More and more people are discovering that mind-body practices such as yoga, qi gong, and meditation can be hugely helpful in shifting the way they react to stress.
So how do you shift your perceptions so you no longer feel like one big rubber band about to snap? That's where yoga and other mind-body approaches come in. Yoga teaches you to tune in to what your body is telling you and to act accordingly.
With practice, this awareness will spread into other areas of your life, including your work. As you learn to separate the urge to act from the reaction, you begin to find that something like a canceled meeting or having a last-minute project handed to you may not rattle you as much as it
once did. You can detect stressors—what Buddhists call the spark before the flame—earlier, then pause long enough to think, "Well, maybe I don't need to respond.
The mental "Pause" is one button I'm still learning to push. It is the basis of Screamfree Parenting and is something I have long sought. In fact, I remember driving to the YMCA last winter to swim with the kids and praying for the ability to pause before acting or speaking, just for a moment, to gather my thoughts and speak/act with intention. It is so easy to become distracted and react rather than respond.
Last night I watched Super Nanny help the family of Wendy Wilson (daughter of Beach Boy Brian Wilson; she is the skinnier sister from Wilson Phillips because surely that's how she is differentiated by people of a certain age.) Wendy and her husband have a 4 y.o., 3 y.o., and newborn twins. Egad!!!!
As I explained to Brett, I like Super Nanny because for the first 20 minutes I think "No way. Ugh-ugh. Oh Helllllll no!" as I watch the kids go buckwild on their parents, quite confident of what I would do differently in place of these idiots. The second third of the show is tougher; that's the part where I realize I am not so very different from the tv. parents, and in fact, might be an even crappier parent. The final 20 minutes are pure catharsis. We all have a good cry and thank JoJo for saving our family with her good-hearted whimsy and no-nonsense British sensibility.
What I liked last night is that I saw Wendy (who I identified with a lot) give her children stern warnings when they misbehaved, up to and including, "The Squeeze."
Ah, the squeeze.
I've felt squeamish about posting on that topic for awhile, wondering what in the hell readers must be thinking of me. I remember reading something Vicki Iovine once wrote about giving her toddlers a squeeze that brought tears to their eyes and swearing off of her completely (and thinking she was absolute pure evil, even if she writes a parenting column in Child magazine and is the parenting contributor for a whole bunch of daytime talk shows).
So, I suppose I can understand where some people might be worried about the welfare of my poor children. But it turns out, what I do is normal, not bad. Even JoJo thinks the level with which I squeeze is fine. Here, squeezing must be defined as holding onto a child's arm, wrist, or nape of neck with the intention to keep them in one place while effectively communicating to them the need to slow their body and mind. I think part of the problem before was that I did not define what it is that I do. What squeezing is not, is pinching. It is not done to induce pain but to bring the out-of-control child into attentiveness. The yank would be the extreme form of this method. I'm a lot less confident about the yank. In fact, I don't know if I am less embarassed now than I was then, but whatever.... Parenting can be HARD but the lessons I am learning are worth any measure of pain. My pain. Not my children's. But I can't stop them from feeling pain. And sometimes I will cause them pain, unintentionally.
Oh for crying out loud! Basta!! Basta!! Basta!!
Friday, February 8, 2008
Slings & Arrows
There is no dignity in parenting. I knew this yesterday when I pretended Bela's boot was a telephone as we walked through Target (it was so much better to receive funny looks from strangers about the boot than the evil glares that I was getting when she was screaming). I knew it this morning when Griffin hollered for me to come in the bathroom because he still had a "poopy bottom."
Dr. Harvey Karp, the Happiest Baby maker, is profiled in the Well column on NYTimes today. This piece makes it sound like Karp just wrote Caveman Chronicles, er, I mean Happiest Toddler on the Block, but Brett & I were practitioners of it three years ago when G-man was in his terrific twos. I read most of the book and thankfully there is a DVD that we were able to check out from ELPL. Now Karp needs to write Happiest Gradeschooler on the Block and we'll be all set again for a few years.
Dr. Harvey Karp, the Happiest Baby maker, is profiled in the Well column on NYTimes today. This piece makes it sound like Karp just wrote Caveman Chronicles, er, I mean Happiest Toddler on the Block, but Brett & I were practitioners of it three years ago when G-man was in his terrific twos. I read most of the book and thankfully there is a DVD that we were able to check out from ELPL. Now Karp needs to write Happiest Gradeschooler on the Block and we'll be all set again for a few years.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Time for New Towels
I had a nightmare last night that I was living with all of my prom dates. It was a very nice place, full of sunshine and teenage boys (because of course while I might be 30-something, Skippy and the rest of the crew are still 16-18.)
The dream can be attributed to my little brother. He was teasing me the other day about my black towels. We've had them for a decade or more. And they smell mildewy. At least, they were stinky when Chris was here at christmas. Probably I had left them in the washing machine a bit too long as I am wont to do. Laundry is my personal battleground.
Anyway, Chris did not want me to give him my black towels when he moves to his new apartment this weekend. He was fairly adamant on the matter, even offering to buy me a new set for christmas or my birthday. All because he doesn't want to smell like D.A., my icky date for the senior prom. Those are not only his initials but a slur we used in high school for people with poor hygeine.
Since the very nice Thomas O'Brien towels I was admiring last week at Target are on sale this week, I think I'll buy some new ones. Just in the interest of future houseguests. :)
The event precipitating this need for towels on my bro's behalf is that he and his wife have separated after almost seven years of marriage. They have one child; my adorable nephew Alexander, known as Ai-a to my kids. I somewhat believed that if I were to push Chris and Nichole into a date night (maybe to see the Matthew McConaughey/Goldie Hawn's daugther movie about a couple on the verge of divorce who reconcile) then they could have their own Hollywood ending. Delusional, I know. Afterall, I am an adult, 'tho a romantic at heart.
The dream can be attributed to my little brother. He was teasing me the other day about my black towels. We've had them for a decade or more. And they smell mildewy. At least, they were stinky when Chris was here at christmas. Probably I had left them in the washing machine a bit too long as I am wont to do. Laundry is my personal battleground.
Anyway, Chris did not want me to give him my black towels when he moves to his new apartment this weekend. He was fairly adamant on the matter, even offering to buy me a new set for christmas or my birthday. All because he doesn't want to smell like D.A., my icky date for the senior prom. Those are not only his initials but a slur we used in high school for people with poor hygeine.
Since the very nice Thomas O'Brien towels I was admiring last week at Target are on sale this week, I think I'll buy some new ones. Just in the interest of future houseguests. :)
The event precipitating this need for towels on my bro's behalf is that he and his wife have separated after almost seven years of marriage. They have one child; my adorable nephew Alexander, known as Ai-a to my kids. I somewhat believed that if I were to push Chris and Nichole into a date night (maybe to see the Matthew McConaughey/Goldie Hawn's daugther movie about a couple on the verge of divorce who reconcile) then they could have their own Hollywood ending. Delusional, I know. Afterall, I am an adult, 'tho a romantic at heart.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Another Perfectly Good Hour
Oh no. In the immortal words of Click and Clack, the Tappett Brothers, "I have wasted another perfectly good hour." Where did the time go??? I have a bad routine somedays. Come in from dropping G at nursery school, lay sleepy Bela in her crib, check the laptop, read random blogs, check the ELPL site for books that I find, write their call numbers in my notebook, write on The Jolly Mama.... But today I had planned to watch An Inconvenient Truth (because truth be told, I fell asleep the first time I watched it.) Sonofabitch! I was even going to do some ironing. But, alas, here I am, back on the computer and looking out my window at a winter wonderland.
Croc of Shoes
When I was working full-time I really thought - on some level - that being at-home would mean I would go shopping more often. I had visions of walking the mall with the children, buying items at mid-week sales, and generally being a very smug shopper.
HA!
The reality goes something more like this --
1) Wake up before the crack of dawn.
2) Wait around for civilization to wake up, too.
3) Cajole little children into putting on their jackets to go out, away from toys.
4) Get awesome parking space because everybody else is at work!!!! (life is not all bad)
5) Chase after little children who want to wander all over the store while I make decisions.
6) Grab whatever I came to the store to buy and pay whatever the store wants me to pay.
7) Spend double what I would have paid buying little children new things that are:
a) shiny b) noisy c) expensive.
And, this my friends, is the story of how Griffin and Bela got new crocs today.
We had gone to the outdoor mall to buy shoes for daddy at DSW Shoe Warehouse. From across the parking lot, Griffin saw the sign for Dick's Sporting Goods (which has a soccer ball, basketball, and baseball as part of its logo) and wanted to go there. He was actually somewhat disappointed once we got into the store because it was a store and not a place to play soccer and basketball.
Until we saw the crocs. He has been *obsessed* with crocs since he met a new friend with crocs this summer. In fact, for a few days after playing with Drake, Griffin would refer to his shoes as his "crocs." Obsessed, I should note, is Griffin's new word for today.
Lo and behold, we found Batman crocs (and Dora crocs for Bela). Both kids are thrilled! Visa is choking. I'm neutral. The shoes will be great for not getting athlete's foot in the shower at the pool and/or sore arches from rocks on the bottom of Lake Michigan but I do hate to make Visa unhappy.
It is also worth noting that in this single purchase I have spent more on footwear for Bela than I have on all the other pairs of shoes I have bought her in her 17 months, combined. Yes, I'm rather frugal. Or was until today, however, the licensed character shoes were $5.00 off.
Cute, totally unrelated Bela story. Recently Bela discovered that she can open the door to the screen porch. So now she likes to do this when Rodan is outside. Yesterday, she opened the door, patted her little behind, and managed to get the #*@! dog to come indoors, a victory Brett and I rarely manage to achieve.
HA!
The reality goes something more like this --
1) Wake up before the crack of dawn.
2) Wait around for civilization to wake up, too.
3) Cajole little children into putting on their jackets to go out, away from toys.
4) Get awesome parking space because everybody else is at work!!!! (life is not all bad)
5) Chase after little children who want to wander all over the store while I make decisions.
6) Grab whatever I came to the store to buy and pay whatever the store wants me to pay.
7) Spend double what I would have paid buying little children new things that are:
a) shiny b) noisy c) expensive.
And, this my friends, is the story of how Griffin and Bela got new crocs today.
We had gone to the outdoor mall to buy shoes for daddy at DSW Shoe Warehouse. From across the parking lot, Griffin saw the sign for Dick's Sporting Goods (which has a soccer ball, basketball, and baseball as part of its logo) and wanted to go there. He was actually somewhat disappointed once we got into the store because it was a store and not a place to play soccer and basketball.
Until we saw the crocs. He has been *obsessed* with crocs since he met a new friend with crocs this summer. In fact, for a few days after playing with Drake, Griffin would refer to his shoes as his "crocs." Obsessed, I should note, is Griffin's new word for today.
Lo and behold, we found Batman crocs (and Dora crocs for Bela). Both kids are thrilled! Visa is choking. I'm neutral. The shoes will be great for not getting athlete's foot in the shower at the pool and/or sore arches from rocks on the bottom of Lake Michigan but I do hate to make Visa unhappy.
It is also worth noting that in this single purchase I have spent more on footwear for Bela than I have on all the other pairs of shoes I have bought her in her 17 months, combined. Yes, I'm rather frugal. Or was until today, however, the licensed character shoes were $5.00 off.
Cute, totally unrelated Bela story. Recently Bela discovered that she can open the door to the screen porch. So now she likes to do this when Rodan is outside. Yesterday, she opened the door, patted her little behind, and managed to get the #*@! dog to come indoors, a victory Brett and I rarely manage to achieve.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Wands, Pentacles, and Flexible Feet
Griffin's nursery school teacher observed today that Bela's feet can lay flat when turned on their side, just like Griffin's feet do when he is sitting down for story time. Evidently this is not average range of motion for children's feet. My youngsters are yogis in the making! My extraordinary flexibility is their birthright!
Bela awakened early, early today. Consequently she took an early nap this morning. I laid her down at 8:15, by 8:30 the screaming had subsided, and she was asleep until 10:30, leaving a nice chunk of time for Griffin and I to read a Scooby-Doo chapter book and draw together.
She is sleeping again now (it is 2:30) and I am downloading a trial version of Adobe Premiere Elements 4 so I can update some images on the nursery school website.
Usually Bela is exhausted by the time we drop Griffin at nursery school so we do nothing fun together but come home for her nap. It is a seamless routine that really works for me ... most of the time. It was a nice departure from that routine today to pop into a little store near Griffin's school after dropoff. Triple Goddess Bookstore. The name alone should conjure images of incense, paganism, and cat worship. The owner is fantastically nice. She let Bela have two balloons and green Mardi Gras beads. And, she gave me my first Tarot card reading.
Dunn, dunnn, dunnn (does that sound like a drum roll when you read it???)
I pulled the Knight of Pentacles (my background card); the Six of Wands (the present day); and the Five of Pentacles (my future).
Anyway, for the interpretation > Knight of Pentacles means victory in the realm of things we need to live our lives (health, job, etc.); Five of Wands - Crap! I don't remember. Bela was getting really close to the ivory Kwan Yin statuette. Admittedly I was less concerned about her safety than about owing the store Brett's next paycheck for things broken. Six of Pentacles is related to my spiritual center. It is about transcending the mundane to make a connection.
Overall, it was not at all what I feared from watching movies my entire life. As openminded as I believe myself to be, I still had a pang of terror that she would pull a card, her eyes would grow big, she would sigh heavily, holding the card to her chest, and say "My dear, dear girl. It all ends so quickly!"
Bela awakened early, early today. Consequently she took an early nap this morning. I laid her down at 8:15, by 8:30 the screaming had subsided, and she was asleep until 10:30, leaving a nice chunk of time for Griffin and I to read a Scooby-Doo chapter book and draw together.
She is sleeping again now (it is 2:30) and I am downloading a trial version of Adobe Premiere Elements 4 so I can update some images on the nursery school website.
Usually Bela is exhausted by the time we drop Griffin at nursery school so we do nothing fun together but come home for her nap. It is a seamless routine that really works for me ... most of the time. It was a nice departure from that routine today to pop into a little store near Griffin's school after dropoff. Triple Goddess Bookstore. The name alone should conjure images of incense, paganism, and cat worship. The owner is fantastically nice. She let Bela have two balloons and green Mardi Gras beads. And, she gave me my first Tarot card reading.
Dunn, dunnn, dunnn (does that sound like a drum roll when you read it???)
I pulled the Knight of Pentacles (my background card); the Six of Wands (the present day); and the Five of Pentacles (my future).
Anyway, for the interpretation > Knight of Pentacles means victory in the realm of things we need to live our lives (health, job, etc.); Five of Wands - Crap! I don't remember. Bela was getting really close to the ivory Kwan Yin statuette. Admittedly I was less concerned about her safety than about owing the store Brett's next paycheck for things broken. Six of Pentacles is related to my spiritual center. It is about transcending the mundane to make a connection.
Overall, it was not at all what I feared from watching movies my entire life. As openminded as I believe myself to be, I still had a pang of terror that she would pull a card, her eyes would grow big, she would sigh heavily, holding the card to her chest, and say "My dear, dear girl. It all ends so quickly!"
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