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Thursday October 15th, 2009 “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!)
Wednesday October 14th, 2009 “Rain usually makes me feel mellow: curl up in a corner time, slow down, smell the furniture. Today… it just makes me feel wet.”
Chris Stevens from ‘Northern Exposure’
Does anyone remember the show, ‘Northern Exposure?’ I was a fan. My girlfriend Desiree and I even took a small detour during a road-trip to Seattle to visit the town, (Rosalind,) in which the television show was shot. It was a funky little place.
The show was beautifully written and I always had a notebook by my side when it was on so that I could jot down quotations. (You see, I’m a quote-collector from way-back!) At the end of one poignant episode, Ed and Chris, (my two favourite characters,) are trying to figure out how to comfort a lonely bird. I think it was a crane. They surmised that the crane was doing a mating dance and wanted a partner, so Chris suggested that they dance with it. One of my favourite lines during that episode came after Ed asked, “How should we dance?”
Chris replied, “With abandon.” The scene ended with the two grown men dancing with the crane in a beautiful outdoor location.
My daughters dance with abandon. It’s a sight to behold. In fact, they do a lot of things with abandon: play, sing, run…
What a great way to live.
Tuesday October 13th, 2009 “We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.”
Thornton Wilder
Does anyone else feel as though they need a holiday to recuperate after a holiday? We went ‘away’ for the long weekend. We only drove 10 kms to my parents’ beach house, but let’s face it, packing for a weekend away from home is the same no matter what the distance; you still require an extraordinary amount of gear! The ‘pack and play’ for Fig to sleep in, the high-chair, the dog’s bed and food, the bikes, the toys, books and games, the outer-garments for all weather, the favourite blanket, the plastic dishes, the footwear for all weather…you know the drill. (F.Y.I. the only items that were forgotten were my underwear. Nice.)
We seem to get hit the hardest in the SLEEP department when we’re away from home. On the day of our departure, Fig missed her nap completely for the first time in her life and she never quite recovered. She fussed at the drop of a hat for the better part of three days. Pip had trouble falling asleep each night, but once she was out, she filled her eleven-hour quota without a problem.
We hosted Thanksgiving dinner out a the beach house; everyone pitched in and cooked a dish or two, so the evening was definitely a team-effort, but my husband and I marveled at how fatigued we felt after our gathering of seventeen had dispersed.
All in all, it seemed as though the ratio of ‘preparation for fun’ to ‘actual fun’ was way out of whack. Maybe that’s just the way life is: good things take some effort. When I think to myself, was it worth it? The hours of laundering, packing, unpacking, packing, unpacking and laundering again? The increased sleep deprivation? The cranky baby? The answer is: of course it was worth it!! For starters, we had our first family beach-fire and sang ‘The ants go marching…’ as the crackling fire met the crisp, fall air. The next day, six happy children ate Thanksgiving dinner together, then retired to the family-room for some ‘ring-around-the-rosy’ fun. And how cool was it that my daughter could look ahead down a beautiful forest path and see her two Grandmothers and her dad walking together? Pretty cool.
When my mother-in-law was packing up Monday to head back to her home-town, Pip reassured her, “Don’t worry Grandma, we’ll have another one of these ‘Thank’ days again soon.”
I’m all for it.
Monday October 12th, 2009 If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, “thank you,” that would suffice.
Meister Eckhart
Friday October 9th, 2009 “Patience is the companion of wisdom.”
Saint Augustine
Pip and Fig both have miserable colds at the moment. Neither of them are sleeping well, which means that I, too, am overtired. By about 4:00 pm yesterday, I noticed that my patience was disappearing. Pip was riding her new bike in the back alley and Fig had decided she didn’t want to walk, so I was carrying her. Pip needed a slight push every once in awhile after breaking, but she was also afraid of going too fast, so she wanted me to hold the handlebars occasionally to slow her down. It had been an afternoon of, “No, Mama, you don’t have to push me anymore…Mama, I need you to push me…NOSE BLOW Mama!!!” and “Mama, DON’T let go I’m going too fast!”
I’d interject with, “That’s not the way you speak to Mama…what’s the magic word…and, how could you ask nicely?” Needless to say, by the time my husband got home from work I was ready for a break. I passed Fig over to Daddy-O and my arms felt so light I thought they would float right off my body. The four of us spent another twenty minutes in the back alley together, then I said, “I’m going to go inside and start dinner, you girls stay outside with Daddy and I’ll call you in when it’s time to eat.”
A few minutes after I had entered the house, Pip came into the kitchen. “Mama, I came to help you with dinner.”
“Sweetie, you should stay outside and get some fresh-air. You haven’t seen Daddy all day!”
“NO Mama! I want to be with you,” she whined.
“Well Pip, I’m talking to your Auntie on the phone right now and it’s good for us to have a little break from each other.”
“I DON’T NEED A BREAK FROM YOU!!!” She was crying now. I had hurt her feelings. She was sick and tired, and I was tired too. I hung up the phone, dried her tears, pulled her into a hug and she calmed down.
After a moment, she pulled away from our embrace to say, “Are you ready to be a good Mama now and let me be around you?”
Nice.
Thursday October 8th, 2009
“Human beings, like plants, grow in the soil of acceptance, not in the atmosphere of rejection.”
John Powell
Fig worships Pip. Not only does she mimic everything Pip says and does, but she also likes to give Pip little gifts. Especially gifts of food. If Fig is given a piece of cheese, for example, she’ll ask for two so that she can toddle off and present one piece to Pip.
When Pip involves Fig in her games, Fig is in heaven. You can see it on her face; she practically glows when she looks at her big sister.
Alternately, when Pip is feeling suffocated by Fig’s love and admiration, she rejects her little sister. There is nothing more heart-breaking that seeing Fig run toward Pip with open arms, only to have Pip say, “No, Fig, I don’t want to hug you right now.” Ouch. Fig doesn’t really know how to handle rejection. She swings her empty arms back and forth and stares at her sister with her big baby blues.
Truth be told, I don’t really know how to handle this situation either. I often try to help Pip empathize with Fig. “Honey, how would you feel if you wanted a hug from me and I pushed you away?” Pip will often hug Fig at this point.
Sometimes I focus on Fig and say, “Come here, Sweetie, I’ll give you a hug!” but my arms aren’t quite the same as Pip’s.
I’ve also said to Pip, “We always have hugs for our loved ones,” because she sometimes withholds hugs for relatives and close friends. I don’t like the idea of forcing affection though, and I never want it to turn into a negative experience. I’m not about to establish a ‘hug-rule.’
My favourite strategy is simply to tell Pip how great she makes other people feel when she hugs them. Maybe one day she’ll realize what a gift it is to have the power to fill someone else’s heart with joy.
Wednesday October 7th, 2009 “Don’t knock the weather; nine-tenths of the people couldn’t start a conversation if it didn’t change once in a while.”
~Kin Hubbard
I don’t typically review products, but this is a gem. You may have noticed the Sammy-Sack advertisement on the sidebar and thought that it was a paid advertisement, but it is not. I have received no advertising dollars or freebies from the company, and I have nothing to giveaway; it’s a product that makes my life with kids easier so I wanted to share it with you. (Especially if you live on the West Coast and like to stroll with your child/children in all sorts of weather.)
The Sammy Sack is a waterproof blanket with fleece lining that clips on any stroller and keeps your child warm and dry, while staying in place at all times. It has a drawstring pocket across the bottom of the blanket for your child’s feet, and it can easily be rolled up into a small, drawstring bag.
I have used it on a single and double-stroller and have found that it easily clips around both types. The great thing about it is that it eliminates the need for blankets or those cumbersome raincoats that fit over the entire stroller. The girls love them because they’re so cozy, and I love them because they’re wind-resistant, water-proof, and I don’t have to worry about the girls kicking them off. I always keep them in the bottom of the stroller and then I know I’m prepared for any type of weather.
Unfortunately there aren’t any local stores that carry them at the moment. The company is based out of Seattle, so the prices are USD and there is a cost for shipping, but my readers get a 20% discount which pretty much takes care of those costs. I just noticed that there is a web sale on right now for a grey and pink sack for $30.00, which is a fifty-percent discount. If you know me personally and want to check out my Sammy Sacks, just let me know, otherwise, take a look at the website by clicking on the ad on my right sidebar. It’s a perfect time of year to make this type of purchase, and if you do buy one, you’ll definitely get a lot of use out of it! (Make sure you use the discount code if you order one on-line.)
Tuesday October 6th, 2009 “There is always music amongst the trees in the garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it.”
Minnie Aumonier
We went for a gorgeous, fall walk in the forest and Fig had a spill. She tripped on a root and rolled, head-over-heels, in beautiful form. It looked choreographed, as though she was demonstrating the perfect tumble to a stunt class.
When she stopped moving she was flat on her back, arms open, looking straight up at a wise old maple tree. I didn’t think that she was hurt, so I didn’t rush to her, I simply observed her reaction. (Truth be told, I pulled out my camera.) At first she looked as though she might cry. She glanced at me, saw no evidence of panic on my face, then she looked up at the astonishing tree above her. This was a new perspective for her. The look of wonder on Fig’s face made me want to lie down in the leaves too. I used to do that a lot as a kid. Just lie down in the middle of Mother Nature and look up.
“Mama,” she called. I thought perhaps Fig might request some assistance.
“Yes Fig?”
“Tee,” she said.
“It’s a beautiful tree.” I agreed.
“Booful tee,” and she took it all in. A moment later she was on her feet again, merrily toddling down the forest path.
Monday October 5th, 2009 “Life is about timing.”
Carl Lewis
You know how everyone says that when you’re raising kids you have to ‘choose your battles?’ Well, I’d like to add that once you’ve decided that something is battle-worthy, it is critical that you choose the right TIME to go into combat. Last night, I blew it completely.
Big Daddy-O has been out of town for a couple of days and Grandma and Grandpa kindly invited us, and the cousins, over for pizza last night. My family was slightly alarmed to see that Pip was wearing a hair-elastic anklet that was obviously too tight. The hair elastic jewelry had started earlier on her wrist, and when I discovered the marks that the elastic was leaving, I used the ‘explain and replace’ strategy. I gave Pip an explanation as to why it was unwise to cut off the circulation to her hand with the tight elastic, then I replaced it with a lovely beaded bracelet that she had forgotten about. She was pleased, but a few hours later, the tight pink elastic had reappeared on her ankle. Apparently, the ‘importance of blood-flow’ speech hadn’t packed the punch I had intended.
So there we were, near the end of our evening at the Grandparents place, getting ready for a little post-pizza bike ride with the cousins. I was suggesting that Pip wear a sweater when my sister wisely pointed out, “I’d be more concerned about that elastic around her ankle than the sweater.” I looked at Pip. She had her bike-helmet on, she was straddling her bike, ‘Peachy,’ and she was ready to roll. I mistakenly thought that she would barely notice if I removed her anklet. I reached down to her foot and said, “Sweetie, I’m just going to take this elastic off of your foot for your bike ride,” and slid it off over her shoe.
Before I go into detail about the ten-minutes of crying that ensued, you should know the following:
1. It was 6:40 p.m.; prime-time for mood-swings
2. Pip had been awake since 6:30 a.m., an hour earlier than her typical wake-up time
3. This was Day One of a cold. Pip’s nose had been dripping like a faucet all day and she had held up remarkably well.
Had I considered these three crucial pieces of information, I most certainly would NOT have chosen to go into combat. Was it a battle worth fighting? Of course it was, but not when my daughter was feeling miserable and tired, and certainly not when I didn’t have the critical replacement anklet.
Pip started wailing the second the elastic was removed. “Mama!!!” she kept yelling. She was still on her bike; tears and snot, (sorry-is there any other way to describe it?) streaming down her cherry-red face. I tried rationalizing with her and empathizing with her, then I gave her a very simple choice,
“Either you pull it together and stop crying so that you can go for a bike ride, or we go home right now. I’ll count to three.” I realized at ‘two’ that she was nowhere near being able to pull it together. “Okay, let’s go home,” I said as neutrally as possible.
“No, Mama!!!” Pip screamed, but there was no turning back now. I started to pick her up but she wouldn’t let go of the handlebars. I carried a distraught Pip, (still clinging to Peachy,) to the car. Luckily I had my sister and Mum for support. They took care of Fig throughout the entire episode and helped me load Pip, Fig and Peachy into the car.
Surprisingly, Pip’s cries decreased as I strapped her into her seat. It was almost as though she was relieved that a decision had been made for her. She looked exhausted. As we pulled out of Grandma & Grandpa’s place I turned on the car-stereo and forwarded to track 8, one of Pip’s favourites.
I tilted the rear-view mirror slightly so that I could see how Pip was doing. Peter Gabriel’s song, “Solsbury Hill,” transformed her. She closed her eyes, rocked her head back and forth to Gabriel’s catchy rhythm, and sung loud and strong, “Climbin’ up on Solsbury Hill…I could see the city lights…wind was blowin’ time stood still…an eagle flew out of the night.”
I love the power of music; it can transform and transport. Peter Gabriel moved us all to a happier place in that moment, and our thoughts of poor-timing and missed bike-rides were replaced with talking eagles. By the time Gabriel sang, “Grab your things, I’ve come to take you home,” all three of us had joined him, and a glowing, full-moon decided to add yet another bit of beauty to our drive home.
Friday October 2nd, 2009
| “The great gift of human beings is that we have the power of empathy.” |
Meryl Streep
The drawback of those great stainless-steel water-bottles for kids is the weight. Today Fig was enjoying a nice sip of H2O in the kitchen, when she dropped her water-bottle on her middle toe. The stainless=steel edge cut through skin, bloodied her toe, and inspired a purplish bruise at the base of her nail. The jury’s out as to whether she’ll lose the toe-nail altogether. Poor Fig screamed ‘Toe-Toe,” for a good ten minutes. I tried running the toe under cool water but Fig wouldn’t stand for it. I felt helpless. Cradling her in my arms seemed to soothe her somewhat, but she kept reaching for her toe. “I know it hurts, Honey,” were about the most comforting words I could come up with, and they weren’t helping.
After the ten minutes of solid crying, Fig alternated between an exhausted state of calm and heart-wrenching tears for another twenty minutes. What astonished me most during Fig’s traumatic half-hour was Pip’s behaviour. Oftentimes, when Fig needs my attention, Pip decides to vie for it too. Not this time. Pip realized that Fig was truly in pain.
When Fig dropped the bottle, Pip was in the living room reading, so she didn’t know how serious things were. She heard Fig crying, but she was ready for a change of outfit, so she came walking into the kitchen with shorts and a t-shirt saying, “I’m hot Mama, can you help me change?”
I told her that I couldn’t help her at the moment because of Fig’s accident. She examined Fig’s toe. “Oh, Fig, ” she began, “that blood is starting to dry up! Good for you!” She gave Fig an enthusiastic two thumbs-up. Fig was oblivious to Pip’s efforts and continued to wail, “Toe! Toe!”
Pip tried another tactic. “Fig, you know, when I got this scrape on my knee, it really hurt.” Pip put a hand on my shoulder to help her balance so that she could lift her knee right up to Fig’s face.
Fig was paying attention to Pip now, but she was still crying. I looked at Pip. “Sweetie, she’s still in a lot of pain.” At this point, Pip did the most marvelous thing; she gently rubbed my shoulder. Do many three-year-olds do that sort of thing? Maybe they do. It just seemed like a very mature gesture, and it felt really nice.
So there we were, Pip and I, looking down into the tear-stained face of sweet Fig. She had stopped crying, but her quivering lower lip indicated that she might launch into another bout of tears at any second. “Maybe Fig would like a little rub on the shoulder too, Pip.” Pip started with Fig’s shoulder, then she caressed the side of Fig’s face and finally patted her head. Fig eyed her sister suspiciously at first, then a smile crept across her face.
“Look at that Pip, you’re making her smile!”
Both girls were now smiling at each other. It was a sweet little moment in time. And it got sweeter.
“Mama, isn’t it funny that Fig was saying, toe-toe, and I have a dog named, Toto?” Ah, empathy and a sense of humour to boot.
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