William James

When I was a teenager, I was really interested in the performing arts.  I loved music.  I wrote songs, I played guitar, I acted in plays, I danced, but I did not have a very powerful singing voice.  My [...]]]> “I don’t sing because I’m happy; I’m happy because I sing.”

William James

When I was a teenager, I was really interested in the performing arts.  I loved music.  I wrote songs, I played guitar, I acted in plays, I danced, but I did not have a very powerful singing voice.  My ever-supportive parents arranged for me to have private vocal instruction with a lady named Joyce Court.  After several rather frustrating singing lessons, dear Mrs. Court said to my mom and I, “Have you thought about modeling, Karen?”  In other words, I was not going to make it as a singer.  I had a good ear, I could read music, and I could definitely carry a tune, but I just didn’t sound that great.

I moved on.  My experience with Mrs. Court definitely discouraged me from performing songs in a public forum, but it certainly didn’t stop me from singing for pure enjoyment.  I used to sing with my students when I was teaching, and now I literally sing ALL THE TIME with my daughters.  Singing soothes babies and older children alike.  If my daughters are cranky, I can always distract them with a little song.

The cool thing is, my daughters don’t give a damn whether or not I have a good singing voice, they call for encores all the time!  I sing kids’ songs, current songs, lullabies, Abba, soundtracks from musicals such as The Sound of Music, and I also make-up my own ‘running-commentary’ type songs.  These are the tunes that would probably be most irritating to any other adult within earshot, but they work.  I often pick showtunes like, “New York, New York,” and change up the lyrics… ‘Start getting your shoes,”  (instead of ‘Start spreading the news…’)   “and put on your socks, we’ll get our winter jackets on, and head outside.”   I’m sure I’m not the only one who does this.

I’m reminded of a former colleague of mine, who taught second grade, and used to sing and hum constantly.  Sometimes she’d even sing her responses to her students.  I thought she was rather loopy at the time, but I don’t anymore.  I get it.  Even my mom is a hummer.  I never recognize the songs she hums, and perhaps they are just a random collection of notes.  Maybe she just hums for humming’s sake, but that doesn’t matter, does it?

I’ve noticed recently that Pip and Fig also launch into operetta-style conversations very naturally, as though it’s just another acceptable form of communicating.  I’m thinking it might make difficult conversations go a lot smoother in the future.  Imagine if Pip confronted me one day and sang, “Mama Mia, Here I go again, My My, Can I get my tongue pierced?”

Confucious

Big Daddy-O was away and the girls and I had to run an errand in the late afternoon.  It took longer than I had anticipated, so at 5:20 pm I decided to pick-up Chinese food for dinner instead of cooking at home.

“But I don’t [...]]]> “Everyone eats and drinks, yet few appreciate food.”

Confucious

Big Daddy-O was away and the girls and I had to run an errand in the late afternoon.  It took longer than I had anticipated, so at 5:20 pm I decided to pick-up Chinese food for dinner instead of cooking at home.

“But I don’t like Chinese food, Mama,” Pip whined.

“Honey, you’ve never tried Chinese food, so you don’t know if you like it or not.”  This next bit is rather shameful, “Do you know that you used to say that you didn’t like chocolate chip cookies?  Then you tried them one day, and you liked them!”  It wasn’t true, but at least it made her think about making uninformed decisions about food preferences!

We strolled into Q.F. and ordered the four-item combo; rice, veg, chow mein and prawns.   Just for fun, I had them throw in a few spring rolls.  (My mouth is watering just typing the words, ’spring rolls.’)

We got home and I had dinner laid out in a flash.  Pip seemed to like the looks of her dinner after all, and chomped into her spring roll without hesitation; or plum sauce.  ”Mama, I LOVE CHINESE FOOD!”  were the words that I heard at least three times that evening.

“Fantastic, Pip!”

“I think I could eat a WHOLE spring roll all by myself,” she ate one and a half rolls, then polished off everything on her plate.

After dinner the girls ran around a bit while I cleaned up, then we all danced for awhile before bath-time.

Once I had put Fig to bed, it was time to read to Pip.  I got onto her bed while she looked for her book of choice.  When she joined me on the bed, she performed an energetic little bounce on all fours and surprised us both by purging a good portion of her dinner on the bed.

“I threw-up Mama.”  Pip was very calm.

“Yes you did, Honey.”  I began to strip the sheet.

“I don’t know why I did that Mama.”

I explained that perhaps her body wasn’t used to Chinese food, perhaps she ate too quickly, or perhaps it was just all of the activity straight after dinner.

By the time I finished my explanation, Pip was snuggled into bed and ready for her book.  I had to let a small chuckle escape before I began reading.  I couldn’t help myself; it was the vision of her exuberant, ‘I LOVE CHINESE FOOD MAMA!!!’ coupled with the sudden vomiting image.   Pip didn’t see the irony, of course, but she laughed when I chuckled, just to keep my giggle company.

Peter De Vries

When we were in Vancouver the week before last, my husband and I were filled with memories of our lives in the city.  For some reason, we were often compelled to share little snippets of our past lives with our daughters.  Interestingly enough, [...]]]> “Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be.”

Peter De Vries

When we were in Vancouver the week before last, my husband and I were filled with memories of our lives in the city.  For some reason, we were often compelled to share little snippets of our past lives with our daughters.  Interestingly enough, whenever we told Pip a story, she’d follow it up with one of her own.  The conversations went something like this:

“Pip, do you know that your dad used to live on a boat?  A long time ago, before you were born, I had a boat in this marina.  Look right down there, that’s where I used to live.  Isn’t that neat?  When I had to take a shower, I’d walk over to The Rowing Club right over there.  ”  Big Daddy-O’s face would light up with pride at the end of one of his tales, but instead of hearing ‘Wow,’ or ‘That’s cool, Dad,’ from his daughter, he heard the following:

“Dad, when I was a little girl, before you and Mama were even born, I used to live on a boat, right down there.  Do you see that?  I would walk right over to that building to take a bath every night.”

Kind of takes the wind out of your sails.  (Even when you no longer live on a boat.)

Andrew Jackson

For some reason, Pip uses the phrase, “Alls I need…”  My husband never says, ‘ALLS,’ I’ve never used it, and I haven’t heard anyone else use it around Pip, so I have no idea [...]]]> “It’s a damn poor mind that can think of only one way to spell a word.”

Andrew Jackson

For some reason, Pip uses the phrase, “Alls I need…”  My husband never says, ‘ALLS,’ I’ve never used it, and I haven’t heard anyone else use it around Pip, so I have no idea where she heard it.    In the past, grammatical errors have been easily corrected with Pip, but  the dreaded ‘ALLS’ continues to pop up, despite my repeated corrections.  The other day I tried a new tactic; to be more specific…

“Pip, you’re saying ‘ALLS’ instead of ‘ALL’…there’s no ‘S’ after the word ALL.”

“But I like S’s Mama.”

“I like S’s too, Honey, and we can use them in lots of words, but everybody who speaks English says ‘ALL,’ they don’t say ‘ALLS.’

“But it doesn’t matter what everybody else does, right Mama?”  Right theory, wrong application, but how to explain this to a three-year-old?

“When we use words to speak to each other, we want people to understand what we’re saying, so it’s important that we use words properly.  If you say ‘alls’ instead of ‘all,’ people might not know what you mean.”

Yet again, words were coming out of my mouth that I didn’t really believe.  Pip must think I’m an idiot sometimes.  Of course people will understand her if she says, “Alls I want to do is read.”  That one little ’s’ isn’t powerful enough to alter the meaning of her sentence, it’s simply incorrect grammar, and it drives me nuts!

I don’t claim to be a Grammar-Guru, but there are examples of poor English all around us.  One of my personal pet peeves is the use of ‘there’s’ instead of ‘there are.’ Example: “There’s a lot of leaves on the ground,” is grammatically incorrect, yet you hear it all the time.  If you take away the apostrophe, you’re really saying, ‘there is a lot of leaves on the ground,’ instead of , ‘there are a lot of leaves on the ground.’  Once again, the meaning isn’t altered by the poor grammar, but it’s still wrong!

I’m sure that I make errors in my writing and my speech,  and when I do, I would like to know about them!  I will humbly thank you if you point out a grammatical error of mine.  I want to know!  I hope to instill the same desire to learn in my children, which is why I’m not going to give up on the eradication of ‘ALLS.’

Although I wasn’t satisfied with my ‘correct usage’ explanation, Pip seemed to be, and I am happy to report that ‘ALLS’ hasn’t been uttered in quite some time.  If and when it does reappear, I’ll have to be ready for it.  In the end, alls I want is for my daughter to speak good.  (Cringe.)

Rebecca Krook

I was inspired by my sister yesterday.  (It’s not unusual, I’m frequently inspired by her!)  She’s home-schooling my five-year-old niece as well as working part-time and mothering [...]]]> “When kids play they remember, they may not be aware that they are learning, but they sure are aware that they are having fun.”

Rebecca Krook

I was inspired by my sister yesterday.  (It’s not unusual, I’m frequently inspired by her!)  She’s home-schooling my five-year-old niece as well as working part-time and mothering a younger son!  She has always been extremely organized, so I wasn’t surprised when I saw a timetable of children’s activities on her kitchen bulletin-board.  She schedules physical activity time, unstructured play-time, structured learning time, and off-campus lessons into her days with the kids, so that all bases are covered.

I thought of her schedule yesterday when I woke up to a wet and grey morning and was faced with the prospect of surviving a full day indoors with two sick children.   At 8:00 am, when both girls are usually in top-form, they were already melting down into a pool of discomfort.  What on earth were we going to do for the next nine hours?

When I was a teacher, I’d write an agenda on the board each day and call it, ‘The Shape of the Day.’  That’s exactly what our day needed: some shape!

After breakfast, I brought out the massive box of play-doh and assorted plastic accessories.  Pip and I taught Fig a few colours and shapes and we showed her how to roll the play-doh into a long snake.

Pip opened up a play-doh restaurant and prepared yellow and black spaghetti for us, then she made me a big black heart and said, “Here Mama, this is a big heart for all of your love.”  (I didn’t let Pip’s colour choice alarm me.)

The girls were happily occupied for almost an hour, and I enjoyed being their full-time facilitator.  Cleaning-up was great because Fig spotted the feather-duster and Pip wanted to use the broom, so there was some impromptu house-cleaning that took at least thirty minutes!

Next we got moving.  I put Peter Gabriel on the stereo, (he is one of Pip’s favourites,) got the ‘musical instrument basket’ out, and we danced for about fifteen minutes.  The girls then paraded around the house with their drums while I cooked lunch.

After lunch it was reading time.  The three of us cuddled on the couch and read a few books, then it was time for Fig’s nap.

Yay!  It was HALF-TIME , and everyone was in great spirits.

I won’t bore you with our afternoon activities, but I will say that structuring the day worked brilliantly.  I set aside housework, phone-calls and errands to create a completely child-centered day, and on THIS particular day, it was a wise choice.

It did feel a little bit like my days in the classroom, however, as a teacher, you dismiss your kids at 3:00 and have time to catch up on marking, prepping, making phone-calls, putting up displays and organizing the classroom!  Big difference.

It’s all one big balancing act, isn’t it?

Patty Lovell

I love places where books live.  The girls and I found a gem at our local library called, “Stand Tall Molly Lou Melon” by Patty Lovell, illustrated by David Catrow.  Pip was the one who spotted it;  she [...]]]> “Believe in yourself and the world will believe in you too.”

Patty Lovell

I love places where books live.  The girls and I found a gem at our local library called, “Stand Tall Molly Lou Melon” by Patty Lovell, illustrated by David Catrow.  Pip was the one who spotted it;  she was drawn by the illustrations, and when we later read it at home, I knew it would become a family favourite.

Molly Lou is short and clumsy, has buck teeth and a voice that sounds like a bull-frog being squeezed by a boa-constrictor, but she doesn’t mind.  Her grandmother dispenses wonderful bits of wisdom that serve Molly Lou well, even when she has to start in a new school and is picked on by a bully.

Here’s a sampling of Lovell and Catrow’s magic:

“Molly Melon had buck teeth that stuck out so far, she could stack pennies on them.  She didn’t mind.  Her grandma had told her, ‘Smile big and the world will smile right alongside you.’

So she did.”

Charming, right?   It’s a gift to be reading aloud to my daughters and hear words like, “Believe in yourself and the whole world will believe in you too,” coming out of my mouth.  After reading it every night for two weeks, I’m hopeful that the messages in this little book are taking up residence in my daughters’ minds.  (As well as my own!)

Charles Lamb

Fig greets everything; people, geese, trees, slugs, flowers, bees…you name it, she’ll say ‘hi’ to it.  I remember when Pip was her age she did the same thing.  Isn’t it lovely?  We should all be spreading our good energy to every [...]]]> “I am in love with the green earth.”

Charles Lamb

Fig greets everything; people, geese, trees, slugs, flowers, bees…you name it, she’ll say ‘hi’ to it.  I remember when Pip was her age she did the same thing.  Isn’t it lovely?  We should all be spreading our good energy to every living thing.  I’m sure the flowers and trees appreciate it at some level.

Many years ago I was introduced to an e.e.cummings poem that fast became a favourite.  I began a little ritual.  Whenever I was out in nature, feeling appreciative, I would recite the first stanza.  I taught it to my students when we were climbing hills in Bolivia and we recited it when we were paddling down a  tributary of the Amazon river.  I remember reciting it when I was dancing with hundreds of people on the streets of Basseterre in St.Kitts watching the sun rise over the Caribbean Sea, and now I say it when I’m with my girls.

The other day we were on a little forest trail, just the three of us, and we came across a giant root.  ”Look at this enormous root!” I had said.

“Hello, Root,” Fig said.

“Hello, Root,” Pip and I echoed.  That’s when I introduced them to  e.e.cummings’ poem.

You don’t have to believe in God to appreciate it; I don’t see it as a religious poem as much as a spiritual poem.  It’s best if you read it aloud, with gusto!  So go ahead…let this gorgeous combination of words roll off of your tongue:

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

Is it possible to NOT feel grateful after that?

Mildred B. Vermont

Pip told me that I was ‘the greatest of love’ when I was tucking her into bed.  The greatest of love.  How does she do it?  How does this tiny person create the most [...]]]>

“Being a full-time mother is one of the highest salaried jobs…since the payment is pure love.”

Mildred B. Vermont

Pip told me that I was ‘the greatest of love’ when I was tucking her into bed.  The greatest of love.  How does she do it?  How does this tiny person create the most tender moments of my life?

I thought the most tender moment of my life was the first time I saw her face.  Then one day Pip smiled at me.  Next came the day she said “Mama” for the first time.  Soon she was saying, “I love you Mama,”  and now she articulates her love in unique and profound ways.  She continually gifts me with pure sweetness.

When I see new mothers in love with their newborn babies I think to myself, “Just you wait…you have no idea how much beauty is in store for you.”

I wonder if mothers of older children think the same way when they see me with my girls… or do they think, “Cherish these times, you’re not always going to be their number one person!”

I remember going to see Barbara Coloroso speak to an auditorium full of teachers and parents.  She was talking about teenagers and said, “If your fifteen-year-old tells you that she hates you, you’re probably doing a great job of parenting.”

Is that what we have to look forward to?  Maybe.  That’s when I’ll have to look back at these posts and re-live the moment that my daughter told me I was the greatest of love.

David Kueck

As my little family arrived at our favourite river-swimming hole, we were greeted with the sound of boisterous male voices having a conversation that was punctuated with profanity.  They were across the river from us, but their voices carried as though they [...]]]> “Profanity is the common crutch of the conversational cripple.”

David Kueck

As my little family arrived at our favourite river-swimming hole, we were greeted with the sound of boisterous male voices having a conversation that was punctuated with profanity.  They were across the river from us, but their voices carried as though they were sitting a meter away.  I first assumed that they were partying teenagers, oblivious to anyone’s existence but their own.  I considered yelling a friendly, “Hey guys, we’ve got kids here, could you please watch your language?”  (It’s the teacher in me.)

Then I studied the figures more closely.  They were middle-aged men, and the most vocal of the lot was carrying a young child in his arms.  In the time it took me to count three young kids, an equal number of  ’f-bombs’ were dropped.

I felt more sad than aggravated.   I decided not to yell across the water.  These were my peers.  They obviously weren’t concerned about their own kids being exposed to such foul language, so why would they consider the impressionable young minds of my children?

Thankfully, my daughters weren’t paying attention to the men across the river; they were more interested in wading into the water, spotting colourful rocks and visiting a little dog named Roxy.  We swam, played, and splashed, but the background sound of profanity was inescapable.  We didn’t linger.

Upon reflection, I find myself wondering why I didn’t speak up.  If I was respectful about my request to the men, perhaps they would’ve been equally respectful toward me and apologized.  Alternately, they might have hurled a few derogatory comments in my direction.  I could’ve handled that.  I suppose I feared the possible confrontation.

What would you have done?

Juliet

from Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare

It’s official.  I shall no longer refer to my second daughter as, ‘Crazybaby’…she will hereafter be known as ‘Fig.’  After a lengthy (30 seconds) discussion [...]]]> “What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;”

Juliet

from Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare

It’s official.  I shall no longer refer to my second daughter as, ‘Crazybaby’…she will hereafter be known as ‘Fig.’  After a lengthy (30 seconds) discussion with Pip, it was decided that I should use our ‘in-utero’ names for both girls .

Our sweet little Fig

When I was first pregnant with Pip I had signed onto a British website called ‘Babycentre’ and I’d get little updates about each stage of my pregnancy.  I remember clearly the day I read, “By this week, your baby is about the size of an apple pip.”  Thus, the name Pip was born.

Similar story for Fig, except that I started tracking my pregnancy through Babycentre a bit further along, so the second time around the size of my baby was compared to a Fig.  Interestingly enough, Fig entered the world at a whopping 9lbs, 10oz.  Crazy!  (Oops.)

Pip loves it when I tell her stories about how she once lived inside my belly.  Once, she turned to me after such a story and said, “Mama, when you were in my belly, I called you Flitter.”

So perhaps Fig’s ‘crazy-baby’ phase will disappear along with the name, ‘Crazybaby.’

She has been eating less dirt these days.  That’s promising, isn’t it?