family: ... smells like...

... Montessori spirit week....

A quick quiz:

Q: What's the quickest way to suck every last bit of the spirit out of an otherwise happy family?
A: Have a Montessori "Spirit Week" that involves separate days of creative dressing, including:
Mon - pajama day / Tues - tie dye or tie day / Weds - jersey day / Thurs - inside out day / Fri - school pride day.

Seems simple enough, right?
Wrong!

truth in blogging disclaimer - taken 9/8/10
(but the spirit is true to the story)

See, pajama day was fine. K has enough pajamas that we could make sure some of her favorites were washed in time for Monday morning.

But yesterday morning we hit a wall. No tie-dye in the house.

Option 2: wear one of the ties that Daddy doesn't even wear.

Turns out this isn't a viable option. For whatever reason. It's not clear why, but K refused. Not even the "cool" all-silk tie a climbing friend brought me from India, a tie that made M swallow a guffaw when I brought it out.

M miraculously managed to dig up a top she had, one tie-dyed a tasteful blue and white (nothing purchased at a Dead show) and proposed that K wear it as a dress, with one of her shirts under it. It was actually quite a creative solution. Nothing doing.

The short and dirty recap is that K didn't go to school yesterday. And K generally likes school. I believe this is the first time she out-and-out refused to go.

So she was absent due to... a clothing virus? A lack of spirit? Do we just say "our daughter couldn't find anything she felt was appropriate for your damn spirit week!" and leave it at that?

The turn of events worries me though, and on so many levels. 1) at 4 1/2 she already can't find anything to wear?!? 2) she's not willing to go creative (we suggested wearing a tie as a belt, wearing M's t-shirt as a dress, wearing a tie as a tie.... nope, no, uh uh! 3) what the heck is she going to be like at 14?!?

We tag-teamed it yesterday, just so neither of us put a foot through a wall or tossed a book out the window. We had to. And it was rough. For K. For M. For me. I have no idea what I would have done if I'd been on my own. Cried, probably. Maybe that's what I should have done while K was crying.

K was in full melt-down mode, and she was a mess. And so were we. We're supposed to be the bosses, right?

And the problem was, we didn't know what to do. Do we force our 4yo to go to school, even if she's wailing at the top of her lungs, even if she's still in her diaper and pajamas ("Uh, pajama day was Monday Mr. K's Daddy"), even if I kinda get why she's resisting going so damn hard?

The thing is, I suspect it was the right move, to just let her stay home.

For one thing, I never liked that kind of stuff when I was a kid either. I never felt like I was going to have the right things to wear or look the right way. I worried about fitting in. Sound familiar? Yup, my daughter is my daughter! So what can I say? "K, I get it. I hated spirit week too." Probably not entirely constructive. And then there was the fact that she was so worked up, and resisting so strongly, that had we made her go, I think it would have caused longer term issues.

But a decision like that requires that a parent remain flexible in the face of extreme screaming and tears, flexible enough so that the decision feels like a valid alternative, rather than simply a caving in. I think maybe we both (M and me) felt like we'd caved a little, but with a few hours of distance, and after talking to M on the phone and hearing that things were going well at home, I decided it was the choice that made sense.

Today is Jersey day, meaning sports jerseys of some kind. Meaning another day predicated on a clothing genre of which we have none. But M has already cleared it with K* and she's going to wear a Mariners t-shirt that is a hand-me-down from her cousins. Maybe. We'll see how she feels about it once she wakes up.... wish us luck!

* "already cleared it with K" - this may be a partial key for us. K doesn't handle course reversals quickly. She's always been best when her expectations are set ahead of time. This means saying early in the afternoon that a day is hair night and letting her know that I'll need cooperation when we wash. It means letting her know that in 15 minutes we're going to kiss Belle on the plastic snout and go inside to have a snack. And maybe it means a bit more preparation ahead of time, finding and running through options.

definitions: gutter / melon ball

it's another edition of double-definition tuesday!

L: Letth touth notheth!
(K: Ok)

gutter - noun, the soft underbelly of a cow

usage:

K (pointing at the belly of a cow): That's called a gutter.
me (uncharacteristically correcting her): Actually it's an 'udder.'
K (looking slightly embarrassed): Oh, yeah. Utter.
L (looking over K's shoulder): That means it's a cow.
me: That's right. Cows have udders. But so do goats and other animals.
L: Other animals?
K: That's a cow.
L: Yeah, that a cow!
me: Right. That's a cow.
K: Horses don't have that.
me: No, horses don't have udders.
L: They have ginas.
me (feeling the floor start to tilt): Uh... well, girl horses have vaginas. And girl cows have vaginas. But not boy horses.
L: They have utterth?
me: No. Girl cows have.... Udders are... (what to call them? 'mammaries' seems too clinical, 'breasts' not quite accurate) ... that's how mama cows feed their babies.
L: They nipples?
me: Uh, yeah, kind of. They're nipples.
K: Boys have nipples too. You have nipples.
me: I do. Boys have nipples and girls have nipples. Women have breasts and girl cows have udders. (yikes!)
L: Boys have pee-nuths.
me: That's right. How about we go watch Saddle Club?

melon ball - noun, a round object shot out of deck guns on old time ships

L (grabbing the pirate ship as soon as K leaves the house to go to school): Dada, I can play with this when K's not home!
me: Yes, you can.
L (looking sad): She thaid I can't play with it, but I can.
me: You can. Even when she's home you can.
L (busy with the ship): Dada, I need the melon ball!
me: Melon ball?
L: Yeah.
me: Uh... where is it?
L: Ith downthairs.
me: The 'melon ball' is?
L: Yeah.
me: What are you going to do with it?
L (helping a pirate climb up the main mast): It goeth in hee-yar (pointing to the cannon).
me: Oh, the cannon ball?
L: Yeah, the cannon ball.
me: I'll go get it.... if you ask in a nice way.
L: Pleath Dada? All 'board!!

family: ... Stand in the place where you...

... pee?

note: This is a potty post. You have been warned. Further, I'm sure this is an issue not original to us, or even that interesting to anyone other than us, but given the sparseness of my posting lately, I figured it's better than nothing....

A few days ago, L needed to go to the bathroom. She's mostly in underwear now (Dora*, if you want the details), and has been doing fantastically, even to the point of napping in them with only one accident so far.

"I am L, hear me roar!"
(and I can do anything I want!)

So here's how things went:

L: Dada, I need to go pee!
me: Ok, do you want help?
L: No. I can do it.
me (settling back down): I know you can. Let me know if you want help.
L (goes to the bathroom): Dada!
me: Yeah?
L: I need help!!
me (getting up): Ok. What is it?
L (standing at the toilet, grinning up at me): I want to do it like this.
me: Like... you mean standing?
L (nodding): Yeah. I can do it Dada.
me: Uh... no, that's not going to work for you L.
L: But it is! It is Dada!!
me (hoping to balance my amusement with my concern): But it isn't L. It isn't.
L: Yes. I promith Dada. I can do it!
me: Girls don't do that. They're not built the same way as boys.
L (insisting now, starting to get that tone in her voice that tells me she's damn well going to do anything she wants to do): But I can do it!! I can!!!
me (torn now between simply picking her up and plopping her on the seat, and thinking 'what the hell, just let her try it. either she'll make a mess that we'll clean up and she'll learn, or who knows, maybe she'll actually somehow pull it off?'): L, you need to sit down.
L (giving slightly, enough to allow me to pick her up, turn her around, and sit her down): But I can Dada! I can!!
me (wondering now...): Maybe L. It's good to think you can....

So there you have it, another potential teachable moment, down the drain (so to speak). Almost immediately after we were done, I began wishing I'd just let her go ahead and try. The worst outcome wouldn't have been all that bad, and it would have been one less experience of being told she couldn't do something. I'd much rather she think she can, and discover whether or not she was right, than get used to being told what she can and can't do.

Daddy fail. But damn it, the next time she proposes standing up to pee, I'm behind her, 100%. Behind and about 5 feet back.


* About Dora: we haven't seen any of the TV shows for Dora, but I can state with certainty that the tie-in Dora "books" are some of the worst-written things in the "teach kids some non-English words" universe. The writing is ... well, childish and simplistic. And condescending. To imagine that this junk would appeal to kids! Compared to something like Winnie the Pooh (which, admittedly, was not trying to teach any non-English words), it makes me want to cry every time the girls pick one of the books for me to read. And they do, regularly. Which means that 1) they like them more than I do, and 2) I'd probably fail as a children's author because, what do I know about what appeals to kids!?!

photo thursday: .... all i have is a photograph...

enthusiasm, it's not just for dinner any more!

L, enjoying some "Gorilla Munch"
(taken earlier this year, back when there was a little bit of sunshine)
(which means it was probably during that single week in August... or was it July?*)

* bitter? no, i don't know what you're talking about.

definitions: overfulled / grisbee

overfulled - intransitive verb, to become full to overflowing

usage:

M: Good morning!
K: Mmmhph.
L: Mama!
M: How was your sleep?
K: What?
M: How was your sleep last night?
K: What?
M: How are you?
K: Good.
L: What?
K: It supposed to be nice today?
M: I don't know. It's not very nice right now, is it?
K (looking out the kitchen window): No....
L: Mama! Look!!
M: What L?
L: The water table!!! It overfulled!
M (looking out at the full-to-overflowing water table on the back deck): Wow. It sure is.
L: K! K! Look at the water table!! It overfulled by the rain!!!
K: No!

grisbee - noun: plastic disc sometimes used for throwing, but more often used for hiding

usage:

M: Could you call the girls? And send Matthew and Natalie home?
me (going out to the back yard): Hey guys, it's dinner time. Natalie, Matthew, you need to head home now.
K: We're still playing Daddy.
me: Dinner's ready. You can play some more another day.
(eventually the girls come inside and we get them ready for dinner)
M: What were you playing out there?
L (obviously not remembering): Um...
K: Hiding and finding.
L: Yeah, hiding and finding.
M: Really? Hiding what?
K: The grisbee.
me: Grisbee?
K: That what it's called.
L: Yeah, that what ith called!!
me: frisbee?
K: No! Grisbee!
M (exchanging a look with me): The 'grisbee?'
M: Yeah Mama.
L: Yeah Mama. Yeah!

family: ...ev'ry time i see your face...

it's monochrome-monday (newly instituted):

Looking a bit older than reality
("earring photos" outtake)

It's hard for me to believe, looking at this picture, that K is just 4 1/2yo, and that she's capable of the tantrums we've been seeing over the last few weeks. It's been rough, and I'm not quite sure why, though it appears that she is coming down with another cold (2nd of the school year). I hope that's the case. Otherwise, we're at a loss as to what's happening. ("Uh, hello Daddy, I am just 4 1/2 years old!" "Oh yeah....")

For the record, it's worth it, even with the storm clouds. Just not quite so much fun during the downpours as during the sunny weather!

family: ... eat for two...

it's food-stuffs friday -

"giving you something to chew on since oct. 2010"

One of the benefits of being able to occasionally work from home (thanks to a flexible boss and workplace) is being able to make lunch in my own kitchen, rather than bolting down something I've tossed together in a rush as I run out the door to catch my bus.

So, yesterday, working from home, I ate:

1) a bagel&ham sandwich made from:

• ham K rejected as unacceptable (and about which M concurred)
• the last remaining leftover bagel in the freezer, a single half of a blueberry bagel (the only option other than bread loaf ends -- at least until M came home and pointed out that we had a shelf above the freezer drawer and there was an entire loaf of bread)
• cheddar cheese (because we had nothing else)
• mustard, lots of mustard
  

Mmmm....?

2) the leftover oatmeal from that morning, doused with yogurt

Hmmm....

In other words, my lunch was not much better than the crap I normally toss together as I'm running for the bus, except that it consisted of stuff I wouldn't have bothered to haul in to work.

Then there was dinner. I'm not a cook. In fact, if left alone for more than an afternoon, I'll quickly revert to my bachelor days and happily eat cereal 3x a day. Indefinitely. But everything is different when you have kids. You're supposed to feel them in a manner that allows them to grow and blossom. So I grilled chicken and made rice. Oh yeah, there's supposed to be veggies too... I washed some baby carrots and picked the last, sad tomatoes from our damp garden.

Pertinent dinner facts:

• L wanted me to sit beside her.
• So did K.
• M was at class.
• It was two-on-one.
• I was doomed.

L: Thit hea Dada (indicating the window seat between her and K).
me: But if I have to get out...
L: It ok Dada. I can move.
me: What if I sit here (knowing I'd be up and down and indicating the stool at the open end of the table).
L: No, thit hea!
me (giving in): Ok. You need to let me in.
L: (slides out and lets me climb into the tight space, then climbs back in behind me)
K: Daddy, I need more chicken.
me (sigh): What's a nice way to ask?
K: Please.
me: L, you need to let me out.
L: (slides out and lets me climb past to freedom)
me: K, you want more rice too?
K: No!
me: "No thank you Daddy."
L: I want something to drink Dada.
me (getting more chicken for K): What do you want L?
K: Apple juice. And orange juice.
me (turning to stare at her, hoping she'll catch on that I'm waiting because she hasn't said the magic word):...?
K (catching on): Please!
L: I want apple juith too. And orange juith. Mixthed.
me (pouring K's juice): Mixed? In the same glass?
L (nodding): Yeah!
me (putting two glasses in front of K): Really? Mixed together?
L ( nodding emphatically): Yeah!!
me (pouring apple and orange juice into a single glass): Ok, here.
L (pointing to the Red Hook Ale tasting glass we have, the one in which I've served K her apple juice according to Child Protective Services requirements): I want a glath like that!
me: We only have one of those.
L (starting to get worked up): I want a glath like that one!!
me: L, we only have that one. We don't have another.
L (fully worked up now): I. WANT. A. GLATH. LIKE. THAT. ONE!!!
me: K, would you mind giving that glass to your sister?
K (mouth full of chicken): (shakes her head)
me (starting to take glass): Thank you!
K (yelling, mouth still full): No! I want it!
me: Oh, I misunderstood. L, we don't have another one of those glasses.
L (breaks down completely, flailing on the window seat, kicking and throwing her pacifier and ultimately banging her head against the window handle): Waaaaaaa!
me: Oh, L, you hit your head!
L: I banged-ed it! (through tears) It hurting!
me (kissing her head): Is that better?
L (shaking her head and crying): No, thea!
me (kissing again): Ok?
L (face wet with tears): Yeah.
K: She can have that glass.
me: Really? Thank you K. L, what do you say to your sister?
L: Thankth K.
me (going to the counter to move K's apple juice to a new glass and pour L's mixed juice into the critical glass): Ok, here.
L: No! I want apple juith in it!
me: There is apple juice in it. It's mixed up.
L: No!! Apple juith. In thea!!!
me (sinking onto the stool): L, you said you wanted mixed up juice and that's what is in there. It's apple juice and orange juice.
L (tears again): No!!! No!!!! I want apple juith and orange juith in thea.
me (standing back up): Ok. Here! (grabbing the glass, dumping its contents into the sink, then returning to the table with glass and both pitchers of juice) Here, I'm pouring apple juice and orange juice into the glass. (hands glass to L).
L (tears increase): No!!!!!! No!!!!!!!! Not like that!!!!!!!!!
me (total confusion): What. Do. You. Want?!?
L (through tears): I want apple juith. And orange juith.
me: In separate glasses?
L (nods, face wet, daddy's finally getting it... maybe)
me (getting another 2 glasses from the cabinet and putting them down on the table and pouring a glass each of juice): There.
L (reaching for a glass): Thankth.
me (sinking to the stool): Are we all set?
K: Yeah.
L (nods): Dada, why you over thea?
me: Because it seemed easier.
L: Sit next to me.
me: Really?
L (nodding): Yeah.
me: You have to get out then.
L (slips out, lets me in, climbs in after):
K: Daddy, can I have more chicken?
me: Seriously?
K: Yeah. I'm doing a really good job on dinner. Can I have some gummy fruit snacks?
me: We're not even going to talk about those until after everyone is finished eating! L, you need to let me out again.
L (slips out, lets me out, climbs back in):
me (after getting K more chicken and climbing back in between K and L): Ok.
K: Actually, I need to go to the bathroom! (runs to the bathroom)
me: Really? (gets nod) You need help?
K (leaves the table and is in the bathroom for a bit) : No. (yelling now) Actually, I need to poop.
me (yelling toward her from my trapped seat): Ok. Tell me when you're done.
K: Ok!
L: Dada, can I have more rith?
me: Ok. You have to let me out.
L: You can go that way (pointing to the other side of the table, which would involve a long crawl on my part).
me: No, this way.
L: Ok. (slips out to let me get past)

I don't think I got to eat for another 10 minutes after this, and had to climb in and out at least 3 more times. At some point I sat down and said "Girls, I love to be with you, but I'm really really frustrated right now. I want to eat something and I want you both to eat too." They looked confused that anyone could feel frustrated while having a meal that could very likely end with fruit gummy snacks.

Somehow we managed to get through the meal and move on to bath and books and bed, but I'm not sure how. The pumpkin beer helped.

But that lunch began to look mighty appealing after all...