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Wednesday October 28th, 2009

Our tiny parent

“We’ve had bad luck with children; they’ve all grown up.”

Christopher Morley

I’m not sure if Pip has sensed that I need her to be ‘low maintenance’ lately, but she has been an angel.  (Possibly because she doesn’t usually get to watch back-to-back episodes of ‘Blues Clues’ while Fig naps!)  She has also been helping to ‘parent’ Fig.

Last Sunday we were driving home from the ferry and Fig had reached her limit; she was ready to get out of the car.  We were still thirty minutes away from home, and my husband and I had exhausted our supply of ‘things to occupy your kids on a road-trip.’  To make matters worse, every time I tried to sing a song or even talk, I’d launch into a coughing fit.   Just when we thought Fig’s whimpers were going to progress to full-on cries, we heard her laugh!!!  Pip to the rescue.  I don’t know exactly what Pip was doing that Fig found so funny, but it worked!

And then today, the girls were eating lunch and I noticed that Fig was using her fork instead of her hand, so I said , “Wow, good eating Fig!”  Pip looked at Fig and said,

“Fig, can you say thank you to Mama?” and Fig looked at me and said,

“Thank you, Mama.”

It’s nice to know I have back-up when I need it.

tiny parent

Tuesday October 27th, 2009

Finding the gratitude


“Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn’t learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn’t learn a little, at least we didn’t get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn’t die; so, let us all be thankful.”

Buddha

Don’t expect much from me this week.  (Such a statement isn’t exactly the best way to entice readers, but I’m going to tell it like it is.)  I feel LOUSY.  This is probably the most ill I’ve felt during Fig’s life.  Mastitis ranks high on the list of unpleasant ‘itises,’ but I’m suffering from a bronchial infection this time around, and it’s not pretty.  I’ve been coughing so much that my abs are sore.  (I wonder if I’ll come out of this with a six-pack.)

I’ve learned from this sickness that there is just no room for moms to be ill.  It doesn’t work.  Before I had a family, I would simply call-in sick and retreat to my cozy little cave.  I’d spend my time sleeping, reading, resting, movie-watching and of course drinking fluids.  Now I realize that the kind of recuperation time I enjoyed as a single woman was a luxury!!!   WHAT I WOULDN’T GIVE FOR A DAY IN BED!!!   There is no cave for the mother of two young kids.  Well, the cave is here, but the rest and relaxation are not.

I have also learned that thinking about what you’d rather be doing, when it’s just not in the cards, is sheer torture.  It does not help to send yourself messages like, “All I want to do is curl up and sleep,” when you’re changing your daughter’s diaper and she’s fighting you all the way.  It’s much easier to accept your current reality and make the best of it.  For instance, I managed to do a lot of horizontal parenting today, and the girls didn’t seem to mind.  There was more book-reading than bike-riding, to be sure, but it was still enjoyable for the girls and more comfortable for me.

This  nasty little bug has been taunting me for three weeks now, and just when I decided I was well-enough to take a family trip to the big city, it called all of it’s nasty-bug-relatives and declared war on my body.  I decided to rally, and do all of the things we had planned to do while in Vancouver, but I clearly overdid it.

Vancouver

Both girls have been suffering from colds during the past two weeks as well, and I find it impossible to focus on my own health when my children are sick.  Pip sleeps well through the night, even when she’s sick, but Fig has been averaging two wake-ups every night and it’s bloody exhausting!  Just when I think I’m on the mend, I have a night with little or no sleep and I’m back to square one.  It’s like my immune system is too tired to fight the good fight.

So last night at 12:00 pm, and again at 4:00 am when I dragged my coughing, sneezing,sleep-deprived body upstairs to nurse Fig, I thought to myself, “there’s no gratitude in this.”  But of course, there is.  For starters, I’m sick, but I don’t have a life-threatening illness.  I can’t imagine the bravery it takes to face that kind of challenge.  Secondly, my kids are generally pretty healthy.  This is small potatoes compared to what a lot of parents with really sick kids have to endure.  I volunteered at the Vancouver Children’s hospital years ago, and it was one of the most humbling experiences of my life.

Thirdly, this may sound kind of bizarre, but I’m repeatedly reminded of a woman I saw on Oprah last year.  I don’t watch the show regularly anymore, but I suppose I was meant to see this particular story.  A pregnant woman went into the hospital to give birth to her second daughter, contracted flesh-eating disease during her cesarean section, and had to have all of her limbs amputated immediately.  The hospital staff kept waiting for her to crash; become angry or depressed-but she never did!  She said that she felt lucky to be alive, and she had two beautiful daughters to love.  That kind of strength ASTOUNDS me!!!  She went home from the hospital without arms or legs.  Can you imagine?  I can’t.

So, although caring for two young kids while I’m ill is challenging, I know that things could be a lot worse.  For that I’m grateful, and sometimes, finding the gratitude isn’t easy.


Monday October 26th, 2009

Shoe-love

“I still have my feet on the ground, I just wear better shoes.”

Oprah Winfrey

I’ve never  been a shoe-girl.  I can think of one pair of slick black boots that I had a lengthy love affair with, but it ended badly when Lefty’s seam split up the back.  I still compare new boots to that old pair, which isn’t healthy for any new relationship.  Suffice it to say, shoe-shopping doesn’t really rock my world.  I don’t window shop for shoes, I don’t know the designer shoe labels like Carrie did on ‘Sex in the City,’ and I’ve never gone out of my way to purchase a particular pair of shoes; until this past weekend.   I was in Vancouver and I was on the lookout for ruby-red slippers for Pip.

On Thursday, our first day in the city, we three girls ‘strolled’ Robson street without any ruby luck,   and Friday we looked on Commercial Drive and came up empty-handed once again, so I put out some feelers.  As it turned out, my girlfriend Tracy had purchased a pair of red sparkly shoes for her niece at a store on West 4th Avenue.  She didn’t remember the name of the store, but she knew the general location.  A Google search and a phone call to ‘TomaToes’ later, I learned that size 10 sparkly red shoes did indeed exist.  Fabulous.

We woke up to a glorious Saturday morning, and for the first time since our arrival, our  raincoats were not required.  The morning was spent enjoying a family outing to the Aquarium, then Fig went down for a nap.  I had made a hair appointment for 3:00 in Yaletown, but I had enough time before-hand to drive to Tomatoes and pick up the shoes.  Just enough time. .

Traffic was heavy, and by the time I found parking on West 4th Avenue, I had only twenty-five minutes before I was due  at the hair salon.  It was going to be tight.  I ran the block-and-a-half to the shoe store, and when I got to Tomatoes and set eyes on the precious rubies, I literally squealed with delight.  They were PERFECT!!!  The salesclerk started ringing in the sale and, before I even opened my purse, I realized with horror that I had left my wallet in my raincoat-pocket back in the apartment!!!  What an idiot!!!  I had no cash, no credit cards, no bank card; just a cheque-book.

Pleading with Mr. Tomato didn’t work; he would not take my cheque, so I asked him to put the shoes aside for me.  I would be back.  Come hell or high water I was going to get those ruby slippers, but I had a more immediate concern to deal with…it was now fifteen minutes until my hair appointment and it would take at least half-an-hour to retrieve my wallet and get to Yaletown.  I called my hairstylist and asked if she’d take a cheque.  No problem.  Okay.  It wasn’t going to be a total disaster.   I called my husband and asked him to leave my wallet with the concierge since I didn’t have my own set of keys for the apartment.  Thankfully, I caught him before he had taken the girls out for the afternoon.

After a very satisfying cut and style, my focus shifted to the ruby slippers.  I felt like the Wicked Witch of the West in my obsession to get my hands on those little red darlings. I drove back to the apartment, got my wallet from Steven the concierge,  drove across town to Tomatoes and purchased the shoes.  A couple of hours later, I arrived back at the apartment and was greeted by a very excited Pip.

“Did you find my ruby red slippers Mama?”  (My husband had the camera ready.)

“I’m happy to say that I did, Pip, and they’re magnificent!  Here they are.”  I passed the brown bag to Pip and she  pulled out the little yellow shoe-box.   She unwrapped the shoes and literally gasped with excitement.  I think I was hugged and thanked ten times that evening.

shoe love

I’ve never gone to such lengths to get a pair of shoes, but after witnessing the look of shoe-joy on Pip’s face, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Friday October 23rd, 2009

Letting Go


“In the end these things matter most:

How well did you love?

How fully did you love?

How deeply did you learn to let go?”

Buddha

When I was staying out at my parents’ beach house recently, I went for a walk by myself.  It was bittersweet, and I found myself misty-eyed as I looked at the familiar surroundings.  The trees, the beach, the forest path, the mossy meadow; they’re dear old friends of mine.  So many memories are attached to the home in which I grew up.

Today marks the day that a young couple and their dog will move into the house.  They’re expecting a child in the Spring, so our old home will be filled with new life.

As I took my walk along the beach, my mind bounced between feeling nostalgic and feeling happy for the young family that would soon enjoy this piece of West-Coast heaven.  I got to my favourite spot,  (a mossy little meadow where I used to play guitar with my friends on warm summer nights,) and I photographed my shadow.  For some reason, I was compelled to make a peace sign with my fingers, and now I know why.

It’s time.  It’s time to make peace with the fact that our old home will be enjoyed by another family.  We were fortunate to occupy it for so many years, and we’ll still be able to walk that stretch of beach whenever the spirit moves us, but it’s time to start letting go.

Buddha believed that all suffering is caused by attachment.  It’s true.  I’m attached; but I’m slowly letting go.  (I just never realized it would be so hard.)

peace sign

tree
path

ocean peek

fall beach

mossy patch

fall2

Thursday October 22nd, 2009

Grammar Mama

“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.)

Wednesday October 21st, 2009

Rubies

“It is our illusions that create the world.”

Didier Cauwelaert

Pip’s obsession with ‘The Wizard of Oz’ hasn’t waned since she first saw the stage production last summer.  She constantly wears her  (purple) ruby red slippers, she frequently assumes the role of Dorothy, she likes to have her hair braided in Garland-like pigtails, she’s going to be Dorothy for Hallowe’en and she has watched the Judy Garland version of The Wizard of Oz in its’ entirety more than once.  I was watching the, ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow,’ scene with her the other day when she complimented Judy Garland, “She sure is good Mama.  She is very talented.  She must be very proud of herself to do the whole thing like that.”

Needless to say, when my friend Fred, who is the father of the actress who played Dorothy this past summer, invited us to his home to meet Dorothy (Sydney), I accepted without hesitation.  I didn’t put much thought into how difficult it would be for Pip to process that Sydney was Dorothy.  After we had spent about fifteen minutes at Fred and Sydney’s home, Pip whispered to me, “Mama, Dorothy isn’t here.”  Ouch.

I thought I had prepared Pip.  Many times we had discussed the fact that ‘The Wizard of Oz,’ was ‘pretend.’ We had talked about the jobs of actors and actresses, and I had warned Pip that Sydney wouldn’t be wearing her costume when we met her, but Pip had still expected to meet Dorothy in all of her glory.  She was disappointed.

I asked Sydney if she had her ruby red slippers, and she brought them out to show us.  Pip examined them; she even put them on her feet, but she still wasn’t convinced that she was in the presence of Dorothy.  “I wonder if you could say a few of your lines, Sydney.”  I knew I was asking a lot, but Sydney seemed like a good sport.

rubies

Sydney asked Pip what her favourite parts of the show were.  Pip wasn’t ready to talk, she just nestled into my side.  I responded for her, “Pip loves saying lines about Toto.”  In a matter of seconds, Sydney clutched her little dog to her chest and launched into one of her monologues about Toto.

When she had finished, Pip looked at me and smiled a gigantic ‘it’s-really-Dorothy!!!!’ grin.  That’s what I was waiting for.

Nice work, Sydney; you had  a tough little critic on your hands but you melted her heart for a second time.

dorothy & pip

Tuesday October 20th, 2009

Hot-blooded

“Sweater, n.:  garment worn by child when its mother is feeling chilly.”

Ambrose Bierce

My daughter is a furnace.  It’s Fall; people are starting to wear toques on their heads and Pip still wants to wear shorts and a t-shirt when she goes outdoors.  She doesn’t like the feeling of clothes on her body.

I remember the type from my teaching days.  I’d have the students all lined up to go outside for recess and there would be one or two kids without jackets.  I’d insist that they gear-up for the weather, but when they returned to the classroom twenty minutes later, I knew they’d be coat-less.  I remember one young boy explaining matter-of-factly, “I’m hot-blooded Miss Pantuso, so I don’t need a jacket.”

Now it’s my daughter who refuses to wear her jacket.  She likes the feeling of fresh air on her skin; even if the air is chilly.  People have said things to me like, “Oh, kids are so active, they run a lot warmer than we do,” or, “She’ll tell you if she’s cold.”  I suppose those things are true, but right now my daughter is sick.  She has a cold.  She’s coughing and sneezing and requiring nose-blows every other minute, so am I being a responsible parent if I let her go outside in a light sweater when I’m ready for a parka?

sweaterless

My husband frequently reminds me that one doesn’t get a cold by being cold.  (He’s another furnace, by the way.)  I understand that you catch colds from viruses and bacteria, but isn’t your immune system compromised if your body temperature drops?   I know that there have been times when I’ve felt a chill and the next day I wind up with a cold.

Truth be told, I’m a rather cold person to begin with.  My body never felt better than when I was living in the tropics.  I like heat.  My muscles relax, my shoulders open, and my neck grows an inch.  I’m a turtle; a tropical turtle.

I like to think that the saying, ‘cold hands, warm heart’ was created especially for me.  I certainly use the phrase enough when people shake my hand and announce with horror, “My goodness your hands are cold!”  I’ve come to realize that the reason I’ve never been a fan of winter sports is because my appendages freeze so quickly!!!  My husband cannot believe how cold I get.  He finds it refreshing when my hands touch his face.  “Forget the cold compress, honey,  just touch me.”

So perhaps my daughter and husband have more efficient circulatory systems than I.  Perhaps I should listen to my daughter when she says that she’s warm enough.  And perhaps it will be a long and challenging winter.

Monday October 19th, 2009

Tender noses

“Be gentle to all and stern with yourself.”

Saint Teresa

Sometimes I marvel at the unlikely situations that fill me with pride.  Nose-blowing for example.

Pip has maintained a fairly positive attitude despite her nasty cold.  I feel as though I’ve been wiping her nose intermittently for the past two weeks, and I have a new appreciation for how she feels because I’ve now caught the bug.

I was reading her a bed-time story when I was overcome by a coughing fit.  “I know you’re sick, Mama, but you just follow the dream that I had for you, the dream to not be sick anymore, and each day you’ll feel a little bit better.”  She comforted me by rubbing my arm, and as she was doing so, she noticed my attire.  “Hey Mama, you’re really wearing a lot of black! You’re like one big black flower!”

She made me laugh, which in turn made her laugh.  “Have you seen a black flower, Pip?”  I honestly wasn’t sure if there was such a thing.

“Of course, Mama, you’re a black flower!”  As my daughter showered sweetness upon me, a heavy stream of clear fluid started snaking its way out of her nose.

“Let me get a tissue for you,” I said.

As I was wiping Pip’s tender little nose for the umpteenth time I took note of a bit of chafed skin beneath her nostrils.  “Was I gentle enough, Honey?”  I asked her empathetically.

She looked at me with sincerity and replied, “Mama, you’re the gentlest nose-blower in all the world.”

A title I’m extremely proud to hold.

cozy pip

Friday October 16th, 2009

Art Talk

“All children are artists. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.”

Pablo Picasso

Your child approaches you with a piece of artwork in hand, and you feel compelled to say something like, “Oh it’s beautiful!  I love it!” or, “Great job!”   These sound like reasonable responses, don’t they?   After all, praise builds self-esteem, right?  Wrong.  Current research suggests that it may do just the opposite; praising our kids may do more harm than good.

Just read Alfie Kohn’s article; ‘Five reasons to stop saying, “Good Job!” and it’ll change the way you talk to your children.

(www.education.com/reference/article/Ref_Five_Reasons_Stop/),

Here’s a taste of what Kohn has to say about praising the creative work of children:

“Researchers keep finding that kids who are praised for doing well at a creative task tend to stumble at the next task, and they don’t do as well as children who weren’t praised to begin with.  Why does this happen? Partly because the praise creates pressure to “keep up the good work” that gets in the way of doing so. Partly because their interest in what they’re doing may have declined. Partly because they become less likely to take risks ‘ a prerequisite for creativity ‘ once they start thinking about how to keep those positive comments coming.”

So what are we supposed to do instead of praising our children?   What’s the best way to respond to the creative efforts of our kids?

During my training as a teacher, entire classes were devoted to the topic of, “Encouragement versus Praise,” and I thought I was pretty good at using encouraging vocabulary with my children…until I met Lesley Henderson.

Lesley is one of the Comox Valley’s greatest treasures.  She runs a pre-school out of her home called ‘Roseberry,’ which my four-year-old daughter currently attends.  I remember my sister describing Roseberry to me years ago, “Every child needs a Lesley in their life,” she had said.  It’s true. Lesley oozes love and respect for her young artists, and they blossom under her care.  She is warm, gentle, kind, inspiring, exciting, enthusiastic, and above all, encouraging.

;es;eu

Lesley generously agreed to share her ideas about art education with the OBE community.  Here’s a portion of my conversation with her:

KPS: Where did you learn how to talk to kids about their art?

LH: My background as an Early Childhood Educator with an Art School degree,

led me to inspiring work teaching at Arts Umbrella. Kids would experience this really intense time of drawing and then painting and then ‘collage-ing,’ and they’d be so excited with the process, they’d run out to show their parents and oftentimes, the parents weren’t sure how to approach the child with the piece of work.  They weren’t quite sure what to say, so I’d talk to parents separately and we’d have discussions around how to talk about children’s art in ways that would encourage a dialogue about the elements of art.

KPS: What would a dialogue like that sound like?

LH: “Wow I see you’ve used a lot of green and yellow in your work today,” or, “Look at those horizontal lines going through that big rectangle.”

We immediately draw the child back into the work they’ve done by commenting on the elements of art; things like colour, line, shape, and form.  We talk to the children as artists; giving them the language of art, and looking at their pieces together in a reflective way.

This way of discussing art with children really does enrich the child’s way of seeing, and it also gives the parents a place to go to talk about their children’s art without making a valuing judgment; without making a complimentary judgment.   Sometimes the compliments like, ‘Gee it’s nice,’ become meaningless to a child because it’s just a pat answer like, ‘Have a nice day.’

KPS: What are some DO’s and DON’T’s for parents to follow when talking to children about art?

LH:

THE DO’S:

Describe what you see.  Have a dialogue about the elements of art; colour, shape, line, form, how energetic a drawing is, even the shape of the paper.

Encourage your child by saying that you know they’ve worked really hard on their painting.

Ask questions: “Was there anything you wanted to share about your picture? How did that colour arrive on the paper…I don’t see it in your tray…how did you mix that colour?”

Refer to your child as an artist.

Take the opportunity to talk to older siblings about their younger brother or sister’s scribbles.  Scribbling is like crawling, it’s a big step, and even adult artists scribble.  It’s an important stage that we all go through and we value it.

Wait to respond.  Sometimes you can just look at the painting and smile.  Waiting often allows space for your child to comment about his or her work.  And if they ask, “Do you like it?”  That’s when you can say, “I see you’ve spent a lot of time working on this painting, look at all the colours you’ve used,” etc.

Make connections between the art and the world.  “You’ve used so many circles here, and do you see any other circles in the room?”

Go to art galleries with your children.  Ask them what they think about the art.

Make art materials accessible to your kids.  Children’s symbolic expressions often represent theories about their ideas.  Providing a variety of art making tools helps children make their ideas visible and deepens learning.

THE DON’T’S:

Don’t say, “What is it?”  It doesn’t have to be anything! Children delight in the process of creating art; the finished product may be of no consequence.  Also, children are often not making art to please parents or identify an idea right away.  Think process over product.

Don’t compliment the work with phrases like, “That’s a beautiful painting,” or “That’s lovely.’  Firstly, you miss opportunities for rich dialogue about the artwork, and secondly, your vague compliments are going to get old.  They become meaningless to children because they hear them so often.

Don’t put a value on it by saying, “I love it!” or “It’s my favourite piece!”  We want children to be enjoying the process for their own sake; not to please us.

Don’t judge by saying, “That’s great work!”  Over time, these words also become meaningless and we lose our credibility with children.

Don’t share your interpretation of a picture; keep it to yourself.  If you say, “Oh, look at that tiger that you’ve drawn,” you might influence what the child has done.  Sometimes kids can be a little put out that you don’t understand what they’ve done.

Don’t give your kids colouring books.  Turn those placemats over at the restaurant so that your child can create on a blank page.  See what they come up with.  A colouring book is someone else’s idea of what something should look like.  It has nothing to do with a child’s view of how to express it.  It’s someone else’s interpretation.

In an article of this length it is impossible for me to cover all of the ideas that Lesley shared with me during our hour together, but you will be pleased to learn that she is available to speak to groups who are interested in learning more on this topic. (lesleyhenderson@shaw.ca)

I would like to add one more item to the DON’T list:

DON’T FEEL GUILTY about the way you’ve been talking to your children.  Knowledge is empowering, and, instead of feeling guilty, I hope that you will find this information as inspiring as my husband and I did.

A few months ago, we decided to replace praise with encouragement in our family; not just when we were talking to our daughters about art, but ALL THE TIME!  It has been a lot harder than we anticipated, but also a lot more fun.  We laugh at each other when we change a sentence mid-stream, “Good….ness you put your pajamas on by yourself!” We’re amused by the seemingly incomplete sound of our encouraging statements, “Pip, you’re using your fork.”  And once, I actually praised my husband for using encouragement instead of praise!

We have a long way to go before we’re a praise-free household, but it’s worth the effort.  And so far, I think we’re doing a good job!

Friday October 16th, 2009

Structure

“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.

first playdoh

fig star

fig blue

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.)

heartsThe 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!

housecleaning

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?