Friday, December 17, 2010

'tis the season, of terrific and terrible

What started out so precious and sweet, with me drafting posts in my head about how wonderful the holiday season is with a toddler who gets so blissfully excited about traditions like pumpkins and going trick or treat, soured from fun to busy and then stressful as the season evolved. Halloween truly was a riot. And Thanksgiving still allowed us to focus on a few precious things, like it's about being thankful, coming together, different people sharing and learning from one another, breaking bread together. But just as we'd finished preparing for, hosting, cleaning up and recovering from a week-long Thanksgiving holiday, things spun out of control into this crazy daze of getting ready for Christmas.

With Christmas, there's just so much more to teach and include her in, carols to be learned, traditions to be told, decorations to put up, cards to send out. And then the cleaning, baking, and ah, the shopping. With the ensuing gift wrapping, with the paper cutting, folding, taping, and labeling, all with a little toddler who seems intent to undo, I mean help, with each step of the process.

It's really really hard to stay calm in those situations. And there has been a surge of moments lately where I don't feel particularly proud about myself.

It doesn't help that the academic in me has taken on the gargantuan task of researching the Norwegian history of Christmas, or yuletide, that is, in order to teach my child AND our friends the right stuff. We're hosting again, this time to some friends of ours with Norwegian ancestors. They're excited to take part in a traditional Norwegian yule celebration, and not only do I want to do with them what I grew up doing in Norway; I want to trace each tradition's history to its roots and provide a rich commentary to the various ornaments and decorations and things we eat and do as the evening with our friends progresses. Seriously, I've started taking lecture notes, using Keeping Christmas, a researched account of the history of yuletide in Norway and among Norwegian-Americans in the US, as my primary source. Sounds like a fun Christmas eve to you yet?

I hope it will be, though I've come to see I need to slow down. I can't get as much done as I set out to do with Lilly in tow. And I won't be able to teach her or my friends all I'd like for them to learn. I mean, we'll be lucky enough if we get some sort of meaningful exchange of words in between the toddler care and play. And that's ok, at least for the kids it will be. Just bringing up the tree we're going to dance and sing around gets her tickled silly. And even if we bake just one kind (and not the traditional seven kinds) of Christmas cookies, and it's Hershey kiss cookies and not something traditional Norwegian because I think it'll be easier, and she'll have fun putting the kisses on the cookies (while eating some as well), she'll be giddy with that too. And if we don't get to move on from "Jingle bells" and "Jul med din glede" ("Yule with your joy"), she'll probably be happier with those two than if I keep sitting down with her going through my selection of seven carols to sing around the tree on Christmas eve, after dinner and desserts and before we open gifts.

Yet it's hard for me to let go. With her recently intensified insistence she "do it myself!" it feels like we're back to doing one thing a day, whereas it seemed for a period that we could do more. I got kind of fond of being able to get more things done in a day and I'm resisting the change of entering a new stage. I find myself still pushing for more while instead I need to remind myself to stay present and calm and just do less.

Some things are worth pushing through for though. I'm glad we went to see the Holidazzle parade in the cities, despite the wait and crowds. Hearing her "wows!" and seeing the expression in her face was just so precious. And I'm grateful we made it to the last ten minutes of the Norwegian Christmas service in town, which got her super excited about Christmas trees and decorating the tree with Norwegian flags and heart shaped baskets. And I am glad that we braved it to the winter walk downtown, despite the freezing cold; watching the horses with their sleighs to the sound of people caroling was even more fun than seeing the historic train models set up indoors at the city library (which was pretty cool too).



Thursday, November 18, 2010

the rock mamas: doing it together

"I don't think I have what it takes," posted a fellow (and at the moment single) parent on facebook.

"You DO have what it takes, of course you do!" was one of the immediate comments.

"But they say it takes a village. I have something more like a hut, perhaps a yurt," was the response.



 (My village, in the Arb)


I am all for the village thing when it comes to parenting. I've relied on play dates for my sanity long before Lilly was able to play with other children. She was about 6 weeks when we left for Norway to spend a year in my native country. I immediately signed up for a new mom and baby group (barselgruppe) that met on a weekly basis that first year. And then we had baby swimming one day, mommy and baby aerobics on another day, always a coffee date some day and Friday was open.


After we returned to the US when Lilly was one, we found new routines and things to do with fellow parents. Age-appropriate read, sing and play classes at the library were a lifesaver that first year, in addition to the various play dates. Now we've branched out, incorporating "school" (ECFE) one morning, yoga another (a friend and I child swap for yoga and then often end up vising over coffee till lunch), and, perhaps my favorite, an outdoors group play date in our amazing local Arboretum. It started out on a casual basis this summer and then firmed up as a "thing" we'd all commit to doing this fall.


We call ourselves The Rock Mamas. It was the rock memorial garden where we first used to meet for play and picnic that inspired the name, but honestly, I think we all feel like we rock while we're there.  Because it doesn't get much better when you're hanging out with kids. The kids are happy playing, running around in the fields, up and down little hills, climbing and jumping off rocks, snacking on picnic treats. And the moms get to talk, often in complete sentences, which, as all parents of young children know, can be a challenge during play dates.




We'd vowed to stick to our weekly outdoors playdate throughout the thick of winter. So we felt pretty good about ourselves when we got together in the Arb this week, all bundled up after the first snow fell this past weekend. (We did make an exception the week of the extremely cold and blustery storm, described as "stronger than most hurricanes, more intense than the Armistice Day Blizzard, the 1991 Halloween Superstorm, and even the wild storm that sank the Edmund Fitzgerald on Lake Superior in 1975." That week we headed over to "Wiggles & Giggles" at the YMCA instead.)

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

what's your asset as a parent?

asked the "teacher" at ECFE this week. Because I cringe at her lecturing approach to our (supposed) group discussion, I froze in my chair. But some good things came about from this question. Several moms expressed what they see as their assets and it's made me think more about what my assets are too.


I was talking with a friend during a play-date this morning, and I told her I see her asset as how calm she always comes about. She laughed, saying she didn't actually feel much like that before telling me about this morning's disaster at their house. Then she told me that her response to the question had she been "called on" (she's in my "class"), would have been her slapstick sense of humor (her favorite movies are slapstick comedies). So when things get really upside-down around their house, she can sometimes just laugh it off.

Then she asked me what I would have answered. But I still hadn't made up my mind. Some of the things shared by the other moms definitely resonated with me (I too love reading and singing to my child, and share my curiosity about the world with her). And I too can be flexible with my child, seize the teachable moment, and maintain a consistent approach in my parenting.


But what else? What new fun or intriguing interesting stuff could I put on the table? That I love to dance and will often turn on the radio for impromptu dance parties when things get either too much or too saggy? That I'm devoted to my nurturing care for her as I continue to attachment parent, nursing on demand, sharing my bed with her, laying down with her for nap and bedtime till she's asleep, for often more than an hour, including her in all our meals that I cook myself from (mostly) scratch, having never passed her off with baby food or offered her anything else than what's on the table, making a real effort to keep mealtimes as calm and positive?

What I told my friend is that I feel good about how I (unlike my mom) really focus on staying calm for my child, providing her with a sense of safety and security in her home environment (which I craved as a child). My friend agreed to this, but then added that what she really thinks stand out about me is my thoughtfulness; how I'll read all these things about parenting and child development that she finds really interesting when I share them with her.

Wow! Don't you just love a friend like that. What an amazing compliment. I just had to give her an immediate big hug. I guess that's just the academic in me, I responded. Not just as in that's my former career, but as in that's what I've always loved to do. To look into things I'm curious to find out more about, reading, researching, and then passing on what I find out, through talking, writing, finding out more in turn as those I share with respond with their thoughts and experiences.

So, though there was lots about last ECFE "class" that bothered me, something really good came out of it. As our "teacher" said, we talk a lot at ECFE about the joys of who our children are and what they do, but not much about what we like and are proud about when it comes to ourselves (don't you just hate it when somebody who turns you off is right about something?). It's a good exercise, to take inventory of your skills and assets that way.

How about you, what do you see as your assets as a parent? Which ones are you particularly fond of?

Sunday, October 31, 2010

sexual brain

Boys and girls are different, but not as different as cultural stereotypes would have us think. Moreover, differences caused by genes  and hormones can be compensated for by encouraging appropriate games and activities to kids. That's the gist of Pink Brain, Blue Brain (2009) by neuroscientist Lise Eliot. Eliot takes the reader from the womb through infancy, toddler years, preschool, and the beginning of formal schooling, so her book might be particularly interesting to parents of children in those age groups.

Lilly's now 28 1/2 months, so I found Eliot's recommended toys and activities for toddler girls in particularly interesting:







-       vetstibular stimulation (spinning, swinging, jumping, cartwheeling) "because girls, while they don’t lag behind boys in gross motor skills during the first year, are slower and weaker from the preschool years onward."
-       ball games (balls, darts, paper airplanes) "because girls begin to fall behind boys in certain spatial skills by end of the preschool period."
-       sports (peewee gymnastics, soccer, T-ball, running, kicking, batting) for spatial skills and hand-eye coordination, gross motor skills and mind-body wellness.
-       puzzles, mazes and other visuospatial games (jigsaw puzzles, the refrigerator magnet toy called Gear-a-tion that allows kids to experiment with gear movement in the kitchen while the adult cooks) to encourage spatial and mental rotation tasks.
-       building toys ("many girls love these, but the themes and colors are often not marketed to appeal to them. Look for more gender neutral LEGOs, Lincoln Logs, Marble Works, K’NEX, old fashioned wooden blocks. Translating a series of instructional diagrams into a three-dimensional structure provide excellent practice at the kind of visuospatial skill that is linked to higher mathematic achievement.")
-       hand her a tool and "moms need to tackle more of the mechanical jobs around the house too for good role modeling."
-       visuospatial computer games (particularly those involving spatial manipulations involving three-dimensional objects and virtual navigation) "because this kind of spatial ability shows the largest sex difference of any cognitive skill."
-       music keyboard training (piano or electric keyboard or a xylophone) "which increases spatiotemporal reasoning skills in preschool-age children. Because the musical scale is experienced as a visual pattern on a piano or a xylophone, learning to play such instruments may train the brain to recognize patterns in both space and time, which may be helpful for mastering mathetmatical concepts such as fractions, proportionality, and geometry."


For toddler boys, Eliot recommends:

-       language and literacy enrichment ("boys need lots of verbal interaction to boost their vocabulary and other language skills. Reading to them is probably the best way to do this. Boys often have a strong interest in nonfiction books about vehicles, sports, animals, outer space, etc. Another boy-friendly way of increasing literary exposure is having them listen to books on tape or on CD. It’s amazing how adding Play and Pause buttons and headphones can entice some boys to sit still and follow a story.")
-       ABCs and letter sounds (to improve independent reading skills later). Reading ABC books to them, emphasizing letter sounds, playing games involving rhyming and alliteration, encouraging them to practice printing their names and other words.
-       Preliteracy computer games ("computer time should be limited, but boys are often drawn to them and they can be powerful learning tools, including for practicing learning letters, sounds (phonics), rhyming, and other reading-readiness skills.")
-       Fine motor skills, which are essential for pencil-and-paper tasks in grade school (cutting, stamping, building with small construction toys, painting or drawing standing at easels, typing, clip-boarding as in walking around tallying or charting objects in the environment)
-       More physical movement indoors and outside.
-       Rough-and-tumble time.
-       Focus on feelings ("books like Thomas the Tank Engine stories with trains that have animated personalities and feelings about their jobs and one another can help boys distinguish and give voice to a range of broader their feelings from a young age").
-       Pet care (to teach nurturing skills).

Saturday, October 30, 2010

mealtime

As a child, I was what's often referred to as a "poor eater." Not always, though. Whenever I'd visit my grandma's, I'd return to my parents' house with what my mom would call a popped belly (struttemage). Why? Because my grandma would make meals so much fun and cozy. She'd bake miniature bread for me which she sliced really thinly, spreading the butter generously, letting me spoon out mounds of her own homemade raspberry jam on top. She let me sleep in bed with her, and then in the morning, after stretching her feet up in the air, greeting each of her toes good morning, she'd talk about what she would like to have for breakfast that day, making a soft boiled egg, some anchovy and cheese sound just heavenly. She'd make hot chocolate for me, warming the milk to just the right temperature and we'd have breakfast by the fireplace.

Back at my parents' house, I'd lose my appetite. All that nagging to eat, the bickering between my parents; meals were the most stressful part of the day.

Over the years, I have regained my appetite for food and the comforts of shared meals with loved ones. I was so excited when it was time to introduce solids to Lilly, but, alas, she was not as excited. At 28 months, she still prefers the boob to bread, at least most of the time (more and more, the Brick Oven Bakery's sourdough bread takes first place, especially if it's freshly baked). But we stuck to our daily meals together, tried our best to make them pleasurable for all, from infancy through babyhood to toddlerhood. And more and more so, she enjoys our meals together. And of course, we're tickled when she downs the tilapia we have on Fridays or whenever she tries something new, like, most recently, mixed spring greens. But more than anything, I'm grateful that we haven't put pressure on her to eat. Rather, we've tried to make it fun and above all as non-stressful as possible (though you know, eating with her has often meant that either my husband or I have had her in our lap while we eat, or shared our chair with her, or played musical chairs around the table throughout the meal). Yet, more and more, she'll sit and eat longer with us before playing nearby on her own. At least on good days (the other days, she's impatiently squirming in one of our laps while we down our food and entertain her).


All this said, I've surprised myself lately by recycling some of my parents' tricks to encourage her to eat. Like, "does baby Millie [one of Lilly's baby dolls] want some oat meal?" [Spoken with baby voice]: "Yes." "Do you want Lilly to give it to you?" "Yes." Upon which Lilly does a little seated dance in her chair before she takes her spoon and pretends feed baby Millie before feeding herself. So cute. Bite after bite.

Just the other day, I said something that shocked me even more. "Can you eat one bite banana for your friend Anna?" Gleeful bite. "Another for Elias?" Another one. And on and on. The fact that it worked??!! Astounding.

So, I guess my parents' weren't completely off the track, had they just stuck to the fun parts and dropped the negativity, they might have nailed it.

Friday, October 22, 2010

losing

Today I felt, I'm losing her. She'd told me this morning she'd been sad last night when I wasn't there the way I always am for bedtime, and then all night she'd spent doing her best making sure I was right there in bed with her, kicking me, squirming around me, sleeping on me. Still she told me this morning she was sad.


And then on top of that, it was the weekly morning she spends with my friend and her daughter, today also her older son who was off school because of MEA. And she didn't seem to mind at all; in fact, she was excited about it. She barely remembered to give me a hug before I left. And then when I returned to pick her up, she was gone. All of them were gone. In the meantime, the house had been decorated for Halloween and I figured it was a haunted house surprise for me. So I opened the door and walked through the house, but no one was home. I called my friend's cell, no response. I called my husband's cell, he had no clue.

My friend had said something about going to the pumpkin patch and maybe the farmer's market and to check my cell before picking up Lilly. There was no message, but after rummaging through their house, I drove to the market.

(Captured at the pumpkin patch with my friend's cell phone camera)

Driving back into town from my friend's house in the countryside went from me feeling like I was the one the joke's made on in a comedy to me fretting my friend was in the emergency room with one of the kids. It was a feeling like no other. On a gorgeous sunny final Indian summer day, the corn acres being plowed around me on both sides, cows grassing, sheep feeding, and all I could feel was that this is a day like no other.

And then of course, when I arrive at the farmer's market half an hour later, they're all there, playing happily at the playground next to the market, snacking on freshly baked market bought quiche and cupcakes. And Lilly didn't even notice me. Or at least she didn't care or run towards me. My friend smiled and waved, did I not get her message? But no, my ten dollars worth stupid cell phone, which I got since a) it's a bargain and b) it has a long battery life, it being such a basic gadget free phone, had neither rung when she called (because the ring tone has mysteriously disappeared) nor received the picture of Lilly and my friend's daughter at the pumpkin patch (because it never had that picture function). And Lilly kept addressing my friend, in English. "Want to slide down." "Take my hat." "Where's my pumpkin?" And so on and on. It's not like Lilly doesn't have English comprehension, but after another morning with my friend, it was all she would speak, all these English phrases.

I'd feared I'd lost her for real. Relieved to see her on the slide, I was still tortured by the realization of slow loss. I'd lost her attention. I'd lost her physically. I'd lost her verbally. While I've used to love how she'd run to my friend,  I know felt somehow jealous.

It was a beautiful day, but I just wanted home and escape from the day. To nurse her. Remind her of our bond. Have her full attention.

So I grabbed her in my arms; she didn't want to leave. Back at the house, she wanted to gallop around in the yard like a horse, jump down the porch stairs, admire her new pumpkin on our front stoop, and not go inside.

I got her in. And all of a sudden it was an onset of many needs: hungry for boob, need to pee, want to wash hands, get in pajamas. In a circus, we got around to them all. And then she contentedly sat down on the floor, arranging and playing with her toys while I made lunch. And she'd snack and eat in between the chit chat with her toys.

I saw her this way so peaceful and content at home, like there's been no business. And while I felt slightly ashamed by my earlier pitiful reaction, I could feel my heart slowly warming, my feet finding their way to connect with the floor, my breath catching up.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

why we read to our kids

One thing my mom did right, was that she read to me. A lot. And whereas my dad would not only tend to skip pages but also kept his voice dead flat when he on occasion read for me at night, my mom seemed to take tremendous delight herself in the activity, reading with great impersonation.


It's one of my fondest memory, sitting on her lap in a big cozy armchair in the living room for quiet time and she'd read to me. Big beautiful leather bound books with classic tales, colorfully illustrated and with beautiful letters. Series of books she ordered through a children's book club, stacking the bookshelves in my bedroom. Text heavy books, or animated books. Bags of books from the library. Some that were challenging, others a breezy read, and some that were right in between.

My mom always had a stack of books on her night table as well, and when the kids were older and she'd get some to herself after dinner and cleaning up, she'd sit in her armchair and read. (I understand now why she to the question "what do you want for Christmas or for your birthday" would always respond: peace and quiet and good children (fred og ro og snille barn).

According to What to Read When: The Books and Stories to read with Your Child -- and All the Best Times to Read Them by Pam Allyn, founder and director of LitLife, an organization that trains K-12 teachers in literacy education, my mom did everything right. She shared her love for books with me. Not just the stories and illustrations, but the way the books were bound, the fonts that were used, the layers of meaning. She introduced me to a range of genres and I would take it all in, devouring books at night myself as my reading skills improved. And she kept reading to me, even when I was fine on my own. I grew heavy on her lap, but she held on to this ritual too.

Even with my mom's role modeling, my Ph.D. in Comparative Literature, and years of experience teaching literature to college students, I found Allyn's book a compelling read. It is organized into three sections. In the first, she describes ways of engaging children in reading and interpretation, how to encourage their love of each letter and page, the power of a good story. She concludes this introductory section with a children's literature canon. In the second, she discusses what kinds of books to read at children's various ages, from birth till ten, providing numerous title suggestions. Finally, in the third, she recommends books that relate to various themes, from "adoption" to "your body" ("complexity of sharing" and "falling asleep" are included among the fifty she presents).

I recommend Allyn's book. Even if you too had someone who's passed on your love for books that you in turn can pass on to your and others' children. It's a reminder of how magical the entrance into the realm of literature can be for children and it's a great annotated catalog of book recommendations for different staged and occasions.

I was reminded of the importance of books that address challenging situations when I came across Anna Brushes Her Teeth at the library. No matter how fun we tried to make the tooth brushing for her with songs (e.g. puss puss så får du et kyss) and rituals, it was just a dreaded time of the day. After reading that book ONCE, it became a blast. Now it's her papa or I saying, "time to brush teeth," and she goes, "just like Anna!"

Currently I'm looking for books dealing with departure time (as in for when we're leaving the play ground, the library, stores, parks, or wherever she does not want to leave). Any recommendations? A book on the challenges of waiting (as in building patience) would also be great.

Monday, October 18, 2010

NO! the terrible twos

The summer Lilly turned one, people we got to know while living in a small Greek village always commented on how happy she seemed. Our response was usually that it's because we follow her clock; she gets to do what she wants to do, at her whim, in her time. Within reason. And with a good amount of distraction and redirection involved. But our feeling was, why fight it? We didn't need to be anywhere or do anything aside from being together, eating, and sleeping. Trying to schedule and discipline seemed futile for this little one-year-old.

 curious ones

Now we're experiencing a whole new ball game. Suddenly it's a constant battle. While we might have found the living slow and a tad tedious a year ago, I do sort of miss its sweet lack of friction. Now, all of a sudden, it's relentless. As of last week, I've found myself constantly bombarded by my willful toddler's tenacious attempts at being contrary. I want to leave the playground, she wants to stay. I want to stay, she wants to go. And so on and on.

terrible twos

As David Walsh, the award-winning psychologist and author of, among other, No. Why Kids--of All Ages--Need to Hear It and Ways Parents Can Say It (2007), writes; parents spend the first nine months of their children's lives saying yes. Then they spend the next nine months or from when the baby starts to crawl, distracting and redirecting (120-21). However, he continues, from about eighteen months, "No takes on a different meaning and importance. Up until then, babies are not really capable of understanding limits and consequences" (121). Suddenly they begin to realize that their needs and wants are not the same as to those of people around them. The so-called "terrible twos" springs from "the toddler's realization that he's a separate person from his parent with different feelings and thoughts," explains Walsh (123). "Toddlers are not doing things parents don't want them to do just to be contrary. They are exploring this newly discovered difference between themselves and others" (123).

Quoting The Scientist in the Crib (2000), Walsh continues:

"What makes the terrible twos so terrible is not that the babies do things you don't want them to do--one-year-olds are plenty good at that--but that they do things because you don't want them to ... Toddlers are systematically testing the dimensions on which their desires and the desires of others may be in conflict ... the child is the budding psychologist; we parents are the laboratory rats." (124)

I'd read Walsh's book through the chapter on toddlers and preschoolers and thought I was safely moving along the track of a balanced parenting style (as opposed to permissive or authoritarian) but I wasn't prepared for Lilly's complete meltdown when I arrived at my friend's house last Thursday after yoga to pick her up. She refused to leave. No matter how much I coaxed or lured, she simply would not. Her thirty pound body suddenly a hundred in my arms, I was unable to strap her alternating limp, tensely strung bow, and flailing body into the car seat. Her crimson cheeks spattered were with tears.  It was not a pretty sight.

Monday, October 11, 2010

homeschooling for a year

I just finished reading Laura Brodie's Love in a Time of Homeschooling (2010), which chronicles her one year of homeschooling her eldest daughter. Witnessing her ten-year-old daughter suffer within a highly regimented public school system, though reluctant to give up her own career, Brodie--an English professor who can appreciate the value of a sabbatical to rejuvenate one's love of learning--decided to teach her daughter at home through fifth grade. It's an honest and thought provoking account about homeschooling, parenting, and the public school system.

I like the idea of giving kids in school this kind of sabbatical. Any of you ever done or considered doing something like this?

Sunday, October 10, 2010

the terrific twos

That's what they call it at ECFE, and I'm beginning to think they might have a point. After a good two-year stretch of intense care and feeding, as in nursing, night and day, I suddenly feel that it's become more of me holding on to this precious stage of stimulating and rewarding teaching opportunities, play, and interacting. Yes, there's the testing of boundaries and the challenge of sharing toys with friends, but I just love how being with her now is no longer just about intense care. We can do so many more things together that are fun for all of us, my husband and I included. And she remembers things that stand out to her as fun and talks about them day after day.

Like the pumpkin we bought last weekend at Sogn Valley Craft Fair. And how she danced to the live music there. Or the river (the loud water fall, on the other hand, seemed to scare her a bit) and all the leaves she saw at Big Woods on our weekend hike.




Yesterday, we took the historical trolley ride in Minneapolis between Lake Harriet and Lake Calhoun. Not only was it fun for all, but it seems to have cured her fear of trains that occurred on a day trip to Pepin, Wisconsin earlier this summer where the train goes through VERY loudly and right in your face.


We also had a picnic by the lake and visited a bookstore (in the Linden Hills neighborhood) with a door-in-the-door just for kids (plus lots of live animals chasing around inside, including hens, cats, rats, doves, and lizards, to name a few).




We concluded with ice cream at Sebastian Joe's, Lilly climbing the tortoise in the court yard with some older kids.


Before conking on a bench with her papa and baby by our car.


So sure, these things are weekend fun things, but every weekday seems packed with more fun. Like watching the garbage truck come by.


So what do you think, what's most fitting for this stage, "terrible twos" or "terrific twos"? Lilly's not yet thrown a full blown tantrum, hopefully she never will (am I being naive?). What's your experience?

Friday, October 8, 2010

caution and competence

It's one of those lovely warm Indian summer days, sun shining from a spotless sky, so when I drove out into the countryside around noon to pick up Lilly who's with my friend Mary on Friday mornings, Mary and I ended up lingering on her deck, talking for more than an hour while the kids where playing around, eating frozen fruit sticks. It didn't matter to us (then) that they were getting overtired, playing well into nap-time. It was just so good to talk. About parenting, books, our work.

As I was about to leave, Mary shared an observation about Lilly. She shows, explains Mary, both caution and competence. It's not that she's hesitant, far from it, she seems very confident. But she always watches and makes sure she can handle tasks and situations before acting.

I was so grateful for my friend's comment, that she really watches my daughter so thoughtfully. Earlier this week I noticed Lilly at the playground carefully watching a new friend climb one of those ladders that's made to look like a hanging rope grid. Then yesterday, at another playground, she came across the same kind of ladder. And this time, she climbed it all the way up.

This quite wise sense of caution transfers to more social aspects too. During the first two ECFE classes, she mainly watched during circle time, snack, and in the second part of class when the kids are free to explore activities by choice while the parents (read: moms and the token dad) have discussion time (read: class) in a separate room. I was about to quit (for this and other reasons), but then that third time she just loved playing with the others so much and the fourth time she didn't even run to throw herself at me like the other kids when the parents return to the children's room for the final goodbye song that we sing in a circle holding hands; she was at the opposite side of the circle the entire time with a big grin on her face.


I want to nurture this sense of caution in her, and not be impatient and hurry her on. As my friend pointed out, it will serve her well as a teenager. If she continues to watch the repercussions of bad choices then, rather than recklessly getting  herself into things, she'll be better--and safer--off.

Friday, September 24, 2010

semester start anxiety abated

Turns out my semester start anxiety was fueled not just by my separation anxiety, but by my fear of going back to my feminist porn manuscript which I had vowed to return to after Labor Day. Fortunately it wasn't dreadful and it only took me a good week to finish up revising it in order to submit to my editor, so now I'm back with Lilly all day. I was holding on to summer at the end there, but now I'm finding refuge in fall routines, knowing what's going to happen every morning (class at "school" Monday, take care of a friend's baby Tuesday, class at the library Wednesday, child swap for yoga Thursday, have Lilly at a friend's house Friday so I get some time to write on my sleep question book).

Lilly in the parking lot in front of "school"

The other thing I was dreading, except returning to the above said manuscript, was Lilly (and I, as it turns out), taking a class at "school;" otherwise known as the Early Childhood Family Education Program (ECFE) offered by the public schools in town. From this post, you may remember me being critical about this program and so wonder why I chose to enroll us in it. Well, firstly I wanted to find out for myself how good or bad it could be. Secondly, a lot of my friends with their kids are in this class, though these very friends are among my sources for my skepticism towards this program. I didn't want to miss out on the opportunity of spending more time with my friends, and Lilly with her friends, playing and learning. I knew this class would include separation time, which I know it's time for (though I'm not liking it). Seeing we constitute about half of the class, my friends and I thought we might have a chance at changing the format a bit and, finally, they all thought I'd be a good candidate to step up and speak out, if that were to be needed.

This was the part I was not happy about. I mean, who likes conflict anyways. But I know I would do it, it's just the kind of person I am. And I was just anxious I'd make more of a scene than need be.

It's not been easy. The teachers are overly sweet and teacherly, to kids and moms, and the token dad. So from being greeted and instructed on how to fill out the name tag, it's been a patience trial for me. The space for the kids is great though with lots of stations for them to explore different activities in. From 8:30 till 9 they roam and play freely. Then it's circle time where we sing, the teacher leads some sort of activity and then reads a book for them. At 9:15 the kids line up to wash their hands and the moms and dad are instructed to leave the class room for our (!) class while the children have a snack and then their play of choice before we return for a final goodbye song.



It's "our" (!!!) class that gets me the most. It's listed on the day's schedule as our "discussion time," but oh no, they insist on letting it be known to us that this is our class time because now it's time to ensure we're parenting the right way. Our "teacher" is a grandma who's so nervous she can barely listen, asking didactic questions like, what kind of parenting style do we not approve of, or superficial questions like, did anyone have a particularly memorable moment of parenting this summer.

Ahh. First day I looked around and saw my best friend just about bursting in her seat. Second time I threw out something challenging to talk about. Like separating from our children, which we're all dealing with as we speak, and many of us--I know at least my friends and I--struggling with. It caused a heated discussion about letting children cry-it-out or not, and I was thanked by my friends after class (during our debrief bitching at the local coffee shop) for bringing this topic up. So I guess this "class" can turn out for the better, but it's going to take work, and that's just not as uplifting to me as when you don't have to fight for a good discussion of sharing challenges and strategies in a safe forum of fellow commiseration and peer boosting.

Monday, September 6, 2010

semester start anxiety

There's anticipation and anxiety in the air as we're plunging into another academic semester tomorrow. My best friend's son is starting Kindergarten, my ex's daughter will be a first year student in college, and my toddling Lilly will be introduced to "separation time" in the ECFE class (Early Childhood Family Education offered by the public schools in town) that she'll be in this fall.

To be honest, I'm dreading it all. But I think it'll be good for us all. Perhaps primarily for me.

"Nationwide, campuses are helping this generation of highly connected families manage the transition by teaching the adults how to let their children go," reported the Start Tribune yesterday on its front page.

Frankly, I'm a little surprised to find myself this attached. I grew up in a country that values independence, in children as well as adults. At eighteen years old, I finished high school, and, as most of my friends, enrolled in university (in Oslo, Norway), left my parents' home (which was in a small city outside of Oslo), and got an apartment of my own. We were legal, could vote, get a driver's license, and buy alcohol in the liquor store. Most of us were done with binge drinking by the end of middle school and considered ourselves quite adult and sophisticated.

When I taught as a college professor here in the US, I was taken aback by how connected students were to their parents. The frequent phone calls I'd overhear between students and their parents while walking across campus from class to class. How much (and how fondly) they'd refer to their parents and conversations with them.

I maintained my high expectations from my American students while I met them halfway, providing more guidance and hand-holding than I really thought necessary. But I did it, and I grew quite close to many of my students. I did not, however, ever get over my exasperation with American students' seemingly uncut umbilical cords.

So why am I so anxious now, what with my Lilly growing up and taking off? I think a lot of it is personal. I grew up in a home that did not feel so safe, and I dreaded first day of school. Alas, it turned out that learning became my sanctuary (though not necessarily school per se: a tiny little girl with glasses, who soon became the class nerd, well, you can see how I became an easy object of teasing and harassment). Yet I liked school. And so when my husband at one point suggested home schooling, even before Lilly was born, I balked. But then the other day, I was the one who threw it out there.

But, ok, so if I take a pause and reflect here now: our Lilly has a completely different foundation from me. We're providing her with a much more nurturing, safe home basis from which she's gleefully adventuring off. She's very confident in herself around others. She loves to learn and she loves people. I think she will love school, and for healthier reasons than mine. She'll be fine. Right???

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

my five tricks for saner parenting

1) Taking a day off (despite the guilt and shouldn't weekends be family time?) to head up to Minneapolis, in high healed sandals, NO nursing bra and otherwise as dressed up as my wardrobe currently allows, for a two and a half hour lunch date with a girlfriend before some shopping in Uptown.

2) Approaching parenting as work, which it of course is,  but not just as exasperating overwhelming tiring work (which, granted, it often is), or as in the jobs we may get just to get paid (whereas this one doesn't even provide a paycheck), but as work where I can apply my skills and background; practice all I learned from my decades in academia, working with other people; flex those muscles, improve even, as a patient, attentive, enthusiastic, empathetic pedagogue, care taker, therapist, and so on.

3) Co-parent with friends. As in arranging play-dates together where the kids can play and the moms (and the occasional dad) can talk. Be they at each other's homes, downing coffee. Or as trips to the park, pool, Arboretum, library, the great college campus spaces in town, and so on.

4) Living in a small town with charm where there are safe sidewalks; easy and quick to get to things; and where the people who work at the library, in the Co-op and at the bakery, and even at Cub KNOW my daughter, and interact and play with her.

5) Not rushing dinner to be done right when husband gets home. Mixing cocktails and throwing together appetizers for all to sip and munch on while (somewhat more) leisurely preparing dinner, or at least somewhat more peacefully. While perhaps having somewhat of a conversation before it's all about the food that's on the plate in front of us, ready to be eaten.

Monday, August 23, 2010

summer snapshots

As I've just made a vow to reflect a little more on the precious moments of everyday parenting, here's a couple of snapshots from this past weekend:

.. taking Lilly to the Como park zoo and conservatory and seeing her expression of wonder and fascination when she saw real live giraffes for the first time in her life (and also seeing the excitement in my husband's face when he saw a wolf, his favorite animal as a kid),

.. Lilly's glee upon returning to the city pool this weekend (finally recovered after a month of sickness), jumping up and down in the water, splashing and pretend swimming,

and then there are all the moments of endearment that happen on a daily basis:

.. how she wakes up in such a good mood most days, miss chatterbox cafe from the first second, pointing out her foot, or my hair, or the sun, or her teddy bear, as if greeting them upon seeing them all again for the very first time,

.. how she'll then announce she needs to go potty, which I'll take her to do, upon which she'll describe to me what's she's doing; peeing, tooting, maybe pooping. Then bending over so I can wipe her cute little bum, standing up afterward and looking me in my face to comment on how good she is at going potty.

.. after which she'll pronounce it time to make coffee and breakfast, upon which we'll stumble into the kitchen together, she taking out her little coffee pot as I get mine going,

.. how she'll pull up a chair to the kitchen counter when I make lunch for us, snacking on mozzarella cheese and pickled cucumber, describing the sandwich food I've spread out for us,

.. how she'll run to meet papa at the door when he comes home with more thrill than I've ever seen a child greet Santa Claus,

 
.. funny little things she'll do, like cover herself in tattoos of stickers, or put marker lids on her finger tips, stretching out her fingers,

.. how she'll pull out her books and study each page, describing what she's seeing, reading some by memory of how she's heard us read them to her,

.. how she'll trustingly reach up to grab the hand of my good friends when we're at one of their houses for play dates with their kids,

.. how she'll walk around with her baby doll Millie, talking to her, hushing her, making food for her,

.. how her face breaks into big smiles when she runs fast or bikes on her trike, praising herself for how good she is at this,

.. how she walks into the local bakery where Julie works, ordering "Julie's bread" (Brick Oven's artisan sourdough bread),

I could go on, but I think that's enough gooey comments to soften the political edges of this blog, for now.

my family

According to my toddler daughter Lilly, this is a replica of us:


I'm the gazelle to the left, with Lilly next to me, and then her papa Leighton to the right. She's way into dinosaurs (to the delight of her papa, who in addition to wolves and monkeys, also LOVES dinosaurs, as witnessed professionally here and more privately here ).

Now, we all have horns of some sort. But I, big mama, am the gazelle. The most graceful? Beautiful? BIG? As in big presence in her life (as a stay-at-home mom)? Or as the firmest disciplinarian? (apparently I'm not the GC but the BC in this family, according to this post and my response).

mama blogs

I was talking with a fellow mama this morning about how much we appreciate being able to talk honestly with one another about the challenges of parenting (and not just the amazing, cute, sweet etc. etc. big and little things); how being around moms who always appear as if all is fine and dandy in their world makes us feel uncomfortable.

I like to use my blog as well as a space for honest outlets. But this fellow mama told me about another approach: Amanda Blake Soule, a mama of four who in her blog, SouleMama, likes to focus "on the beauty of everyday life." In her Snapshots disclaimer, Soule explains that her writing presents the reader with exactly that: snapshots. The precious ones. Because this kind of blogging is a sort of meditation to her that helps her remind herself of the joys, beauty and blessings that surround her on a daily basis; that it helps her to see and look for those things, people and moments which bring her joy. That it helps her get through the days of parenting (just as, she adds, a reassuring phone call to a spouse or a friend can do, or the promise of an evening of creating in peace, or the mindful mantras taped to a mirror and repeated as necessary,  "and yes, sometimes by eating a pint of ice cream, locked alone in the bathroom at 9 o'clock in the morning, breathing deeply and trying to restore some sanity with which to continue the day mindfully, and with patience."

I like this approach too. Maybe I should try adding a little bit of this meditative practice into my own approach to parenting.

Though I do really enjoy reading blogs that I can relate to well, like SuburbanSnapshots by the mom of a toddler girl my daughter's age.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

angry housewives eating bon bons

Lilly's resistance to naps has been overcome by sickness. At first, she'd wake up from a cough or congestion after less than half an hour. She still has a fierce cough and an endless stream of snot, but she will nap and often around two hours. It's an amazing feeling. And so needed. Especially now that I'm also sick. So as soon as she's asleep in her bed, I take refuge in my bed to rest and read: Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons (2003). It's so good! I love it. Set in the late sixties - early seventies, it's about the growing friendship between five women. From different parts of the country, they get to know each other when they end up living on the same street in a residential neighborhood of Minneapolis. They are all mothers of young children, so there's much to identify with, and compare and contrast, about friendship, gender roles, motherhood, parenting, and more; attitudes to race, homosexuality, war.

These are not the trapped housewives critiqued by Beddy Friedan in The Feminine Mystique (1963). They are stay-at-home moms, just as I am, with a knowledge of the lack of gender equality. One is a highly politically active demonstrator and feminist: her husband is the one who helps out the most with the kids, but she's also the one who's fought most for gender equality. Another finds out she's cheated on by her husband. A third feels she lives a secret as she keeps covering up--even to her husband--for her dysfunctional upbringing by a non-existent father and an alcoholic mother. A fourth became a widow at young age. And the fifth is the daughter of a pastor (who verbally abused her), married to a doctor (who verbally and physically assaults her); she has a growing awareness that she is indeed angry and most certainly the victim of unfair treatment. And not just from her husband.

The book takes its title from this husband's derogatory remark about the book club the women found, and it's through this book club they bond. The book is told from the different women's perspectives, each taking turn to host book club meetings (they skip "hostess" in favor of "host," convinced by the activist's argument about the discriminating implications of such gendered terms, though one member takes offense against the feminist turn against the semantics and the feminine). Here they talk, about the book and their lives, while they drink martinis, smoke cigarettes, and eat savory food that they all contribute to, potluck style. They share lots of good laughs and some cries. They find community and a sense of belonging; they find themselves. 

I'm not even halfway done yet, and so while Lilly's still napping, I'm going to go curl up in bed now with my book! Check it out; it's worth it!

Saturday, August 7, 2010

temper tantrums: how do you deal with them

I bond with the moms I can share the hard times with. I feel out of place when I'm at the play-ground and all the moms there seem so happy, leaving me with a "have a good rest of the day now" as they cheerfully gather their kids to go home. Lilly's reached the terrible twos with its awful temper tantrums, and any outing involves the risk of a body flung to the ground, "no!" She doesn't want to go. Or she insists we go.

Returning to the yoga mat and heart-to-heart conversation with good friends help me regain perspective and some inner calm as I set and maintain the boundaries, over and over and over again. and again. Hold the space for her while she throws herself on the floor, screaming, throwing, kicking. Reminding myself of Catherine Newman's hilarious portrayal of parenting a two-year old in Waiting for Birdy, or Thelma Harms's wise "12 Building Blocks of Discipline" which emphasize realistic expectations from toddlers, that we don't overreact, and that we be patient with our children and ourselves. That we express love and catch our children "being good" as much as we correct. Other building blocks include setting up a safe environment and sensible limits, that we strive to perform predictable behavior and communicate clearly with our body, intonation and words.



But it's hard. It's hard at the house, it's hard at the mall, it's hard at the play-ground, it's just plain hard everywhere.

Friday, August 6, 2010

summer of sick

Whereas my husband and I took turns writing and being with our daughter, Lilly, last year, it's been me all summer while he's submitting job applications and working on his thesis that's due November 15. Starting out, I was so excited to have full days with her again and not just a couple of mornings (with one of those at the library for a lap-sit class, the other alternately at yoga or watching my friend's daughter while my friend went to yoga) and three afternoons (mostly filled wit me attempting to help her nap, then recovering from that, were she to nap, before making dinner). I pictured more time in the garden, playing around in the yard, and hanging out on our porch, going to the beach at the various city lakes, swimming at the pool, attending a music and movement class for my daughter, BBQs with friends, etc.

We've had quite a bit of time in the garden, more so before it got so buggy. And after she stopped running out into the street or our neighbor's yard all the time, that got to be pretty good. Except for that stretch of time when she would gleefully pick stuff that wasn't meant to be picked (we're still working on that one, but it's getting better).


And we've definitely spent more time on the porch, except when it's too hot and muggy (still need to pick up a good vent to circulate the air). But when it's nice out, it's my favorite place to hang.


Tuesday, August 3, 2010

personality types affect women's approach to childbirth

Susan Maushart, author of The Mask of Motherhood, discusses how women who delay motherhood may have a harder time adjusting than their younger peers. As a first-time mom at the age of 35, I can relate to this. I landed a tenure track position when I was 26, completed my Ph.D. when I was 27, obtained tenure and promotion before I turned 32, and had my first sabbatical the following year. I was able to accomplish many things, yet I always complained that there wasn't enough time in the day to do all the stuff I wanted.

As a new mom to an infant, I discovered the brutal reality of no time in the day to do anything for me by myself.

But now a new study reported here by the guardian.co.uk, suggests it wasn't just my age and the time I had had to pursue a career and get comfortable with my own space and routines that made motherhood hard for me; my personality type also seems to have something to do with it.

Apparently, high levels of "extroversion," "agreeableness" and "neuroticism" seem to accelerate the desire of a woman to have a child. Conversely, high "conscientiousness" and "openness" are associated with delaying childbirth.

(Photo: Alamy)


As someone who valued being well-organized and self-disciplined to get where I got, and who vowed never to let traditional gender roles confine me, I can see how I fit this study's findings:

"Those who scored highly on conscientiousness tended to follow the rules, to be reliable, well-organised and self-disciplined. Openness reflected an individual's tendency to unconventionality and intellect. Open-minded women tend to enjoy being unattached, free, not tied to people, places, or obligations – and may be rebellious."

the spirituality of parenting

Public radio's Krista Tippett recently interviewed rabbi Sandy Sasso for a program on Tippett's Speaking of Faith show titled "The Spirituality of Parenting." I highly recommend it. For a transcript of the interview, click here, or to download, listen to the program and find more resources, including a discussion guide to continue the conversation, click here. Below is a blurb about the program from the program's website:

"How do parents and grandparents nurture the spiritual and moral awareness of the children in our lives? Rabbi Sandy Sasso has written books that help children and adults of many backgrounds discuss religion and ethics together. The spiritual life, she says, begins not in abstractions, but in concrete, everyday experiences we are already encouraging in our children — for example, reading."

A friend and fellow mama recommended these books to me when I mentioned the program to her: Parenting Beyond Belief, god bless the gargoyles, and The Three Questions.

cuddles from mom make braver babies

Yesterday, I took my two-year-old daughter over to a friend and her six-year-old son to attempt a playdate between the two, and an opportunity for my friend and I to talk a little. Despite the age difference, it went fairly well. He got to demonstrate several of his acrobatic feats, many of his favorite toys, books, and movies, and all the while he talked up a storm in his high-pitched voice while climbing sofas, shelves, kitchen counters and tables. I was amazed at his frenetic energy level, and how calm my friend stayed.

She, on the other hand, was impressed by my endurance when I told her about my daughter's frequent need to nurse and be near me, say in bed at night, or when I'm in the bathroom for my morning routine or in the kitchen cooking.

Yes, it really can get taxing to nurse a 2+ child, especially when she likes to twist herself around me as she pulls on a wad of my hair and moves her head in any and all directions while still sucking. But I also cherish our physical closeness, and with me as her harbor, she's always displayed a fearless sense of physical adventure when we're out and about and among others.

Now there's evidence that "Maternal affection - how much mom cuddles her baby- makes a big difference in how mentally stable that child will be later in life."

 (Photo: B. Coila)

A new study reported here in the examiner.com "looked at 482 people over 34 years and found that babies who received a high level of maternal affection had significantly lower rates of anxiety, hostility, and general distress when they grew up."

Furthermore, "a 2004 rat study in Nature Neuroscience introduced the concept that maternal affection changes the structure of DNA in the hippocampus of the brain. In that study, this change in the brain make the offspring braver and better protected from stress as adults."

"The take-home idea behind all of this is that moms may actually be changing their babies' brains for the better with every cuddle, hug, kiss and nuzzle. So don't worry about spoiling your baby with too much affection. Instead, remember that you're building baby's brain with every cuddle." (examiner.com)

Thursday, July 29, 2010

diapers

Did you know that the newest frontier in giving is diapers? As I found out this past weekend while reading the paper, a suburban mom named Kristen Grode is herself surprised to see that the nonprofit she launched this spring to build Minnesota's first diaper bank, collecting diapers from the public and then delivering them to agencies that help struggling parents, coincides with the burgeoning of a national movement on diaper rights. Yale University held its first "diaper colloquium" earlier this year; the first national study on "diaper needs" was recently released; and a national campaign to improve access to diapers has been launched in Connecticut. "The humble diaper, it seems, is becoming a new frontier of social policy. Advocates argue they are an essential need for children and parents, much like infant formula and food stamps, which are available through the government."


Truly; I am in favor of the government helping. And I have great respect for the work of nonprofit organizations. And am awed by the willingness of this nation's public--friends, neighbors, local communities--to reach out and help each other.

But what ticks me off in this case, is all that's missed.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

prime-time TV deals with teen baby boom

We don't have television, so I'm not up-to-date on popular culture. But I was very pleased to read in the paper that there's now a surge of shows that are tackling teen pregnancy and even abortion; and apparently, many of these shows do it in a nuanced, honest manner, acknowledging teenage sexuality and teenage pregnancy. While unfortunately, there are still vast cultural silences around contraception, abortion and homosexuality.
(Matt Lauria and Madison Burge in NBC's "Friday Night Lights")

On a somewhat related topic, I've since I first addressed the topic of children's sexuality and proper attire at the City pool, learned that while all kids need to wear either a swim diaper, swimsuit, swim trunk or bikini while they're in the pool, a top is not necessary. I was told it was ok for her to be naked if I was just changing her but if she was going into the water, she needed something on. I don't know if this means that I could keep her naked as long as she's out of the pool (a real long "change" period?) or not. Unfortunately she's not much fond of wearing just the bikini bottoms either (as opposed to a full swimsuit), but it may just be the frilly skirt that it has on it. In the meantime, I'm looking for a basic bikini bottom for her.
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