Geekyboy has taken to calling me "grandma". "I'm pretending you're my grandma" he tells me, then proceeds to yell "Grandma" across the playground.
Our choice to live here in San Francisco means that the kids don't get to see either of their actual grandparents very often. Perhaps the poor child is grandparent deprived. His obsession with the TV show "Max and Ruby", in which the grandma (a bunny) is a featured character and the champion of the little boy bunny Max may also have something do do with it.
Whatever the reason, I'm getting a bit pissed off! I have seen a few heads turn, probably wondering, since he is calling me "Grandma", if I was a teen mother when I gave birth to his mother or father. Well I hope that's what they are wondering, maybe I look plenty old enough to be his grandma. After all, it is biologically possible and there are forty year old grandmothers aplenty.
Insult is being added to injury by my new "Kindle". I have the version that is super cheap because it displays advertising when you are not reading on it. It keeps showing me adverts for anti aging face potions. Maybe this just reflects the target market of a generic Kindle reading demographic, but I'm taking it personally. And wondering if I should invest in some. The sands of time seem to be catching up with me.
Showing posts with label kids talk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kids talk. Show all posts
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
waxing lyrical
The kids are starting to listen carefully. I now understand that old adage "little pitchers have big ears".
We watched Mamma Mia for mothers day.
"How come she doesn't know which of those three guys are her daddy?" asked Geekygirl.
"Oh, her mummy liked them all a lot, they were all such nice guys, that she couldn't tell" I scrambled in reply. Which was a bit of a cop out, but better than saying "well her mum was a bit of an old slapper".
I guess that is why the movie is rated PG13, but I had assumed that the actual plot would fly over the kids heads and they would just enjoy the music. Note to self, more careful vetting of movie plots in the future.
I have been running into the same issue with song lyrics. I prefer not to listen to kids music in the car so I have put together an eclectic playlist of things I like, things they like, and things I thought I liked until I had listened to them 200 times and would now rather chew off my own hand than listen to again ("party in the USA", I'm talking about you.) The list includes several numbers from "Glee" including that great Journey cover "Don't stop bleeding" - as it is sung in our car.
I have a bit of Lady GaGa, some child friendly JayZ, the aforementioned Miley Cyrus number, some Train, some Abba, but the Glee covers are the favourites. The songs have caused some interesting conversations, a memorable one being "Mummy, why does he want 'Jessie's girl'?"
The latest was
"Mummy, why does he like 'fat bottomed girls'?"
We have done a good job so far of teaching the kids that people come in all sorts of sizes, so I wanted to be positive; "Maybe because they are squishy?"
Geekygirl: "Mmm, maybe fat bottoms are nice and soft. Mummy, I have a tiny bottom and you don't have a fat bottom, but P's mummy has a really, really fat bottom"
The lady in question does indeed have a spectacular rear. She is also a friend of mine. She is a woman confident in her shape and appearance, but I am crossing every finger, indeed every bone in my body that Geekygirl does not serenade her with an A Capella version of "fat bottomed girls" the next time we see her at preschool.
We watched Mamma Mia for mothers day.
"How come she doesn't know which of those three guys are her daddy?" asked Geekygirl.
"Oh, her mummy liked them all a lot, they were all such nice guys, that she couldn't tell" I scrambled in reply. Which was a bit of a cop out, but better than saying "well her mum was a bit of an old slapper".
I guess that is why the movie is rated PG13, but I had assumed that the actual plot would fly over the kids heads and they would just enjoy the music. Note to self, more careful vetting of movie plots in the future.
I have been running into the same issue with song lyrics. I prefer not to listen to kids music in the car so I have put together an eclectic playlist of things I like, things they like, and things I thought I liked until I had listened to them 200 times and would now rather chew off my own hand than listen to again ("party in the USA", I'm talking about you.) The list includes several numbers from "Glee" including that great Journey cover "Don't stop bleeding" - as it is sung in our car.
I have a bit of Lady GaGa, some child friendly JayZ, the aforementioned Miley Cyrus number, some Train, some Abba, but the Glee covers are the favourites. The songs have caused some interesting conversations, a memorable one being "Mummy, why does he want 'Jessie's girl'?"
The latest was
"Mummy, why does he like 'fat bottomed girls'?"
We have done a good job so far of teaching the kids that people come in all sorts of sizes, so I wanted to be positive; "Maybe because they are squishy?"
Geekygirl: "Mmm, maybe fat bottoms are nice and soft. Mummy, I have a tiny bottom and you don't have a fat bottom, but P's mummy has a really, really fat bottom"
The lady in question does indeed have a spectacular rear. She is also a friend of mine. She is a woman confident in her shape and appearance, but I am crossing every finger, indeed every bone in my body that Geekygirl does not serenade her with an A Capella version of "fat bottomed girls" the next time we see her at preschool.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
imaginarium
Recently the kids have starting asking me one question over and over again. Whenever they are confronted with an animal in a story book they ask me "Is it real, or imaginary?"
At seemingly random moments throughout the day I hear
"Mummy, are armadillos real or 'magin'ry?"
"Mummy are dragons real or 'magin'ry?"
Ditto for unicorns, meercats, tarantulas, vampires, red eyed tree frogs, narwhals and all manner of fantastic beasts that they have encountered in books and films. Over Christmas they were constantly probing me about whether reindeer were real or not. I was able to answer this one honestly, relieved they never asked me directly about the status of one particular reindeer and the driver of his sleigh.
It is quite a reasonable question, when you think about it. We do take trips to the zoo, but ultimately many of the animals that populate their books are exotic beasts that they may never actually see in the flesh. Geekyboy was quite convinced that the armadillo was a made up animal. It took some argument on my part that though they are quite peculiar looking things, they do in fact exist in the world. Contrarily, unicorns, so like horses but with that fine single horn, seem quite consistent with the realm of the real.
Even as adults, I realized, there are many things in the natural world that we know to be real but have never actually seem ourselves apart from on nature documentaries. Those bizarre deep sea fish with the huge jaws spring to mind, the giant quid and the coleacanth, the pangolin and the blind mole rat. Then there are those persistant mysteries; the yeti or bigfoot, and the loch ness monster. Perhaps the realm of the imaginary and the real overlap more than we think. Then of course there are those creatures that once existed but are now long extinct. Dinosaurs feature heavily in our literary repertoire and they defy definition. Real, yes, but now long extinct, and the depictions of them even in scientific texts owe much to the imaginations of palaeontologists.
To be on the safe side, we have now added a third category to our classification system; "real, 'magin'ry, and 'stinct". I think I'm ready for the next barrage of questions!
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Thankyou for the music
This past weekend Geekydaddy and I went to see Idina Menzel singing with the San Francisco Symphony. She is the Broadway star, now best known as Shelby on Glee, who created the role of Elphedra in "Wicked", and also (I learned from my program), the role of Maureen in "Rent". She was wonderful. She's also a new mum, and she sang us a pretty little song that she wrote for her son. I doubt her children will ever say to her "Stop singing, Mummy", as mine do. The symphony is one of my many "reasons to stay in San Francisco". Usually we attend more highbrow classical type concerts, but I saw this one advertised on twitter, and couldn't resist the combination of show tunes and symphony.
My parents filled our lives with music. Mum plays the piano and all three of us kids took lessons, though only my sister had the commitment and talent to actually get good at it. She also played the cello, I played the flute (poorly) and my brother tackled the euphonium (he wanted the biggest instrument the school had in its music closet). We were exposed to an eclectic spread of music. From my dads old 78's (I recall a song called "Thankyou very much for the HP iron" or something to that effect), to Handel's 'Alleluia Chorus', to a sixties folk band called the Spinners, to Danny Kaye and Julie Andrews, through Abba, Boney M, Jaquelin Du Pre, through the entire works of Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber, and on to Wham, Duran Duran and Oasis and Benjamin Britten, our childhood was full of music. Classical was never considered superior to popular. Mum and dad were always open to new artists. The radio was always on.
I want to pass this legacy on to our kids. They love music, and I used to take them to a music class, but this has long fallen by the wayside. Geekydaddy plays the guitar, he is self taught, and the kids are thrilled to to hear him strum out a bit of Tom Petty or Neil Diamond. I have a nice electric keyboard, an optimistic gift to myself for a pre kid birthday, and in my "spare time" am trying to reteach myself to play so that I can bash out a few tunes for them too. I'm grateful that I can still at least read music, and exercising this rusty skill has made me marvel at the power of our brains to process and retain age old lessons. Like language, this skill seems to embed in the brain.
Translating symbol to sound is a unique human talent, and thinking about the neural leaps required to learn it has made me anxious to expose my kids developing brains to the concept of reading and playing music soon, but for now we mainly listen to recorded music. I have some great kid music (and some dreadful stuff), but in the car I only listen to "my" music. Recently this has been Lady Gaga, The local band "Train". and the hits from Glee. I'm starting to question the wisdom of this though. The kids are very perceptive.
This sensitivity can be charming. Listening to Idina and Michele singing their version of "I dreamed a dream" from the Glee soundtrack, Geekyboy said forlornly "This is a sad song". Geekygirl agreed and has come up with her own version of why it is so sad "They dream about tigers, but the dream doesn't come true" she says, which is quite a reasonable interpretation from the songs lyrics, when you think about it.
There comes the problem though. The song lyrics. I now have a four year old who sings "And she's loving him with that body I just know it " (Jessie's girl; Glee soundtrack), and "I say stop, I say go, I say yes and I say Oh hell no" (Save me San Francisco; Train). I am quite partial to Geekyboys take on Journey's "don't stop believing" retranslated as "don't stop Bleeding", but Perhaps I should stop listening to Lady GaGa in the car before they starts singing something really embarrassing.
Do you vet your music choices for child appropriateness? When will/did your kids learn an instrument? Would love your input!
My parents filled our lives with music. Mum plays the piano and all three of us kids took lessons, though only my sister had the commitment and talent to actually get good at it. She also played the cello, I played the flute (poorly) and my brother tackled the euphonium (he wanted the biggest instrument the school had in its music closet). We were exposed to an eclectic spread of music. From my dads old 78's (I recall a song called "Thankyou very much for the HP iron" or something to that effect), to Handel's 'Alleluia Chorus', to a sixties folk band called the Spinners, to Danny Kaye and Julie Andrews, through Abba, Boney M, Jaquelin Du Pre, through the entire works of Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber, and on to Wham, Duran Duran and Oasis and Benjamin Britten, our childhood was full of music. Classical was never considered superior to popular. Mum and dad were always open to new artists. The radio was always on.
I want to pass this legacy on to our kids. They love music, and I used to take them to a music class, but this has long fallen by the wayside. Geekydaddy plays the guitar, he is self taught, and the kids are thrilled to to hear him strum out a bit of Tom Petty or Neil Diamond. I have a nice electric keyboard, an optimistic gift to myself for a pre kid birthday, and in my "spare time" am trying to reteach myself to play so that I can bash out a few tunes for them too. I'm grateful that I can still at least read music, and exercising this rusty skill has made me marvel at the power of our brains to process and retain age old lessons. Like language, this skill seems to embed in the brain.
Translating symbol to sound is a unique human talent, and thinking about the neural leaps required to learn it has made me anxious to expose my kids developing brains to the concept of reading and playing music soon, but for now we mainly listen to recorded music. I have some great kid music (and some dreadful stuff), but in the car I only listen to "my" music. Recently this has been Lady Gaga, The local band "Train". and the hits from Glee. I'm starting to question the wisdom of this though. The kids are very perceptive.
This sensitivity can be charming. Listening to Idina and Michele singing their version of "I dreamed a dream" from the Glee soundtrack, Geekyboy said forlornly "This is a sad song". Geekygirl agreed and has come up with her own version of why it is so sad "They dream about tigers, but the dream doesn't come true" she says, which is quite a reasonable interpretation from the songs lyrics, when you think about it.
There comes the problem though. The song lyrics. I now have a four year old who sings "And she's loving him with that body I just know it " (Jessie's girl; Glee soundtrack), and "I say stop, I say go, I say yes and I say Oh hell no" (Save me San Francisco; Train). I am quite partial to Geekyboys take on Journey's "don't stop believing" retranslated as "don't stop Bleeding", but Perhaps I should stop listening to Lady GaGa in the car before they starts singing something really embarrassing.
Do you vet your music choices for child appropriateness? When will/did your kids learn an instrument? Would love your input!
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Who's the boss?
Geekygirl must have overheard a conversation about work, because she asked me the other day "Mummy, what is a boss?" I explained that at work I have a boss, who is in charge of the office and who tells us what to do (My boss rarely tells me what to do, in actuality, but I didn't think it was time yet to talk about situational leadership and management strategy.)
I could see her mind working, and she asked me "Do I have a boss?" The question afforded a perfect opportunity to test her opinion of our family dynamics so I asked her, "well, what do you think, who is the boss in our family?"
"You are" she replied with out hesitation. "You are the boss of Geekyboy and me". "What about Daddy? I asked. She thought for a while and said decisively "Daddy is the boss of Geekyboy and me too, but you are the boss of Daddy".
Later that day she explained to her father that "Mummies are the boss because the mummies have the babies. If the Daddies have the babies then they get to be the boss."
Sorry Dads, but you can't argue with pure four year old logic.
I could see her mind working, and she asked me "Do I have a boss?" The question afforded a perfect opportunity to test her opinion of our family dynamics so I asked her, "well, what do you think, who is the boss in our family?"
"You are" she replied with out hesitation. "You are the boss of Geekyboy and me". "What about Daddy? I asked. She thought for a while and said decisively "Daddy is the boss of Geekyboy and me too, but you are the boss of Daddy".
Later that day she explained to her father that "Mummies are the boss because the mummies have the babies. If the Daddies have the babies then they get to be the boss."
Sorry Dads, but you can't argue with pure four year old logic.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
On Language
I speak with a home counties slightly posh kind of British accent (I'm from Buckinghamshire, near Milton Keynes), with a few Americanisms thrown in. Despite my 14 years in the US I still sound completely English. My daughter, however has a full on American twang, which is hardly surprising given that her dad also sounds American, and that her teachers and classmates all speak with American accents too, despite the diversity of ancestry in the class. What baffles me though, is my son's pronunciation. He has adopted the classic cockney English guttoral stop, most apparent in words like "buttons"," twenty" and "caterpillar", which come out as Buh' uns, twen'ey, and caa' er piller. If he lived in Milton Keynes there is no doubt he would call it"Mil' uhn Keynes", as do many of its residents, now I come to think of it.
It is cute, he sounds very English wide boy, rather like the little gecko who voices the Geico car insurance commercials over here, or like a toddler David Beckham. I just don't understand where he has picked up this linguistic tic. I can't imagine where he has ever heard anyone speaking with the accent. We don't watch East Enders, the only British TV the kids see is Charlie and Lola and Peppa Pig, neither of which, to my recollection, have characters who drop their 't's. I can only conclude that he has some how inherited an English accent, and that there must be a recessive "Cockney gene' lurking in our family DNA.
My little American girl, on the other hand, would never be suspected of having a drop of English blood based on her vowels. I was struck yet again by this when we were talking about spelling. She and I were sounding out some simple words the other day in the car, "PIG" Puh, i guh", CAT "Cuh aa tuh", and so on
"What about dog, mummy? I think I can do this one" she said and continued "Its 'Duh aaa guh. Daahg'."
I realized then that in American English "dog", pronounced "Daahg" does sound like it has an 'A' in the middle rather than an 'O'. So I'm confused. Do I now teach my daughter that O makes the "aa" sound?
Any help much appreciated, before I end up with a very confused preschooler!
It is cute, he sounds very English wide boy, rather like the little gecko who voices the Geico car insurance commercials over here, or like a toddler David Beckham. I just don't understand where he has picked up this linguistic tic. I can't imagine where he has ever heard anyone speaking with the accent. We don't watch East Enders, the only British TV the kids see is Charlie and Lola and Peppa Pig, neither of which, to my recollection, have characters who drop their 't's. I can only conclude that he has some how inherited an English accent, and that there must be a recessive "Cockney gene' lurking in our family DNA.
My little American girl, on the other hand, would never be suspected of having a drop of English blood based on her vowels. I was struck yet again by this when we were talking about spelling. She and I were sounding out some simple words the other day in the car, "PIG" Puh, i guh", CAT "Cuh aa tuh", and so on
"What about dog, mummy? I think I can do this one" she said and continued "Its 'Duh aaa guh. Daahg'."
I realized then that in American English "dog", pronounced "Daahg" does sound like it has an 'A' in the middle rather than an 'O'. So I'm confused. Do I now teach my daughter that O makes the "aa" sound?
Any help much appreciated, before I end up with a very confused preschooler!
Sunday, April 11, 2010
a do over
Bedtime was a little late last night, the consequence of a nice bottle of wine opened and enjoyed during a surprisingly pleasant family dinner. Surprising because eating together as a family when half of that family are small children is a rather hit or miss experience. Geekydaddy and I sipped our wine as we watched the kids play after dinner, eventually deciding that one of us needed to put down the wine and start the bedtime routine while the other cleared up. I took bedtime duty.
Pyjamas on and stories read, I had one final box to check, teeth cleaning. Up here at tahoe I have a selction of kid toothbrushes. Geekygirl had a 'hello kitty' one, then when I bought a 'Dora' one for geekyboy she complained, so I had picked up a Dora and Diego one for her. This Dora and Diego brush has become the favourite. These days I always buy two of everything when possible to avoid conflict (which is why my son has rather more plastic princess toys than your average two year old boy), but I'm stuck with a selection of different, competition inducing toothbrush choices for now.
Geekygirl grabbed the Dora and Diego toothbrush, to wails of protest from Geekyboy, who wanted it too. She didn't want to relinquish it to her brother, though I suggested it would be a kind offer, but I didn't force this issue. He continued to wail and wail after teeth cleaning was over.
We were about to tuck up in bed, Geekyboy, overtired and hysterical, still wailing about the toothbrush.
"Mummy, I want to do it over" Said Geekygirl.
"Why?" I asked
"Because I want Geekyboy to be happy" she replied.
She wanted to clean teeth again, this time letting Geekyboy have the coveted brush.
It was a little lesson in realizing that getting what you want doesn't feel so good when that means someone else is miserable.
How many times in your life have you wanted to take something back, "do over' a conversation when you said something selfish or thoughtless? I know I have, many times. We don't usually get a "do over" in life, but this seemed like a good time for one. So, hygiene be damned, we went back to the bathroom and redid the teeth cleaning scene, this time Geekygirl got to be generous and give her brother the toothbrush of his desire, and everyone went to bed happy.
Pyjamas on and stories read, I had one final box to check, teeth cleaning. Up here at tahoe I have a selction of kid toothbrushes. Geekygirl had a 'hello kitty' one, then when I bought a 'Dora' one for geekyboy she complained, so I had picked up a Dora and Diego one for her. This Dora and Diego brush has become the favourite. These days I always buy two of everything when possible to avoid conflict (which is why my son has rather more plastic princess toys than your average two year old boy), but I'm stuck with a selection of different, competition inducing toothbrush choices for now.
Geekygirl grabbed the Dora and Diego toothbrush, to wails of protest from Geekyboy, who wanted it too. She didn't want to relinquish it to her brother, though I suggested it would be a kind offer, but I didn't force this issue. He continued to wail and wail after teeth cleaning was over.
We were about to tuck up in bed, Geekyboy, overtired and hysterical, still wailing about the toothbrush.
"Mummy, I want to do it over" Said Geekygirl.
"Why?" I asked
"Because I want Geekyboy to be happy" she replied.
She wanted to clean teeth again, this time letting Geekyboy have the coveted brush.
It was a little lesson in realizing that getting what you want doesn't feel so good when that means someone else is miserable.
How many times in your life have you wanted to take something back, "do over' a conversation when you said something selfish or thoughtless? I know I have, many times. We don't usually get a "do over" in life, but this seemed like a good time for one. So, hygiene be damned, we went back to the bathroom and redid the teeth cleaning scene, this time Geekygirl got to be generous and give her brother the toothbrush of his desire, and everyone went to bed happy.
Friday, March 19, 2010
apprehension
We have been fortunate enough to make some new friends recently. They are fellow parents at daycare of a boy in Geekyboy's class. We've socialized a few times with the kids, and had a very nice time, but this weekend we're taking our relationship one step further. They are coming to stay with us for the weekend at our place in Tahoe.
I'm nervous. It is a big commitment spending the whole weekend with people, especially people you don't know all that well. There is a lot of conversation to be had. Lots of potential for awkwardness. Lots of dishes to wash.
I spent money we can't really afford on a new coverlet and matching throw pillow for the guest bed. I've been to their house you see, and it is rather well appointed, whereas our Tahoe place, though it has many charms, is furnished mainly with tatty things the previous owners left behind.
I packed nice clothes for myself, though usually I spend the weekend in my sweatpants or my ski undies. Quite often we don't even find time to shower, so I'd better squeeze one of those in this weekend if I can.
I recycled the 50 old copies of Star and Us magazine I have laying about and replaced them with "the Economist" and "Scientific American" (we do actually subscribe to those magazines, I didn't buy them specially!)
And I'm crossing my fingers and hoping that the children behave well all weekend. I know that these friends are not coming to judge my parenting, but who doesn't feel a little under the microscope, dealing with the usual day to day drama that is to be expected with a four and two year old.
So, parenting gods, please smile on me this weekend. I"m hoping that my kids don't fight with their little boy (an only child, unused to having to negotiate for playthings). Please don't let them bash him over the head with trains, toy saucepans or electronic games. I'm crossing my fingers that Geekygirl doesn't do one of her middle of the night fits of the screaming ab dabs about pyjamas or pull ups and wake the entire house. I'm really counting on neither of the children biting me in front of our friends. And please, please, please, even if all of this does come to pass, please don't let Geekygirl call their little boy, who is in that rapid "hear it once and repeat it forever" phase of language learning right now, a "penis head".
It will be fun, right?!
I'm nervous. It is a big commitment spending the whole weekend with people, especially people you don't know all that well. There is a lot of conversation to be had. Lots of potential for awkwardness. Lots of dishes to wash.
I spent money we can't really afford on a new coverlet and matching throw pillow for the guest bed. I've been to their house you see, and it is rather well appointed, whereas our Tahoe place, though it has many charms, is furnished mainly with tatty things the previous owners left behind.
I packed nice clothes for myself, though usually I spend the weekend in my sweatpants or my ski undies. Quite often we don't even find time to shower, so I'd better squeeze one of those in this weekend if I can.
I recycled the 50 old copies of Star and Us magazine I have laying about and replaced them with "the Economist" and "Scientific American" (we do actually subscribe to those magazines, I didn't buy them specially!)
And I'm crossing my fingers and hoping that the children behave well all weekend. I know that these friends are not coming to judge my parenting, but who doesn't feel a little under the microscope, dealing with the usual day to day drama that is to be expected with a four and two year old.
So, parenting gods, please smile on me this weekend. I"m hoping that my kids don't fight with their little boy (an only child, unused to having to negotiate for playthings). Please don't let them bash him over the head with trains, toy saucepans or electronic games. I'm crossing my fingers that Geekygirl doesn't do one of her middle of the night fits of the screaming ab dabs about pyjamas or pull ups and wake the entire house. I'm really counting on neither of the children biting me in front of our friends. And please, please, please, even if all of this does come to pass, please don't let Geekygirl call their little boy, who is in that rapid "hear it once and repeat it forever" phase of language learning right now, a "penis head".
It will be fun, right?!
Monday, September 21, 2009
How was your weekend?
A woman in my group left for maternity leave this past Friday. At our social hour as we discussed weekend plans, those of us with children reminisced on the births of their own kids with our pregnant coworker, then we coalesced on a conversational theme: What on earth did we do on the weekends before we had kids? We all agreed that we barely remembered "weekends before kids". But afterwards, I started winding my mind back in time.
We used to go out late in the evenings, to bars, concerts, restaurants, then more bars. We used to sleep late and then read the newspaper in bed, eat "brunch" at three in the afternoon at the latest trendy spot, lie around all day devouring novels or watching a marathon of movies. We used to read recipe books, shop and carefully cook meals to share with friends. We used to make huge jugs of Sangria and drink through them, talking and laughing about nothing for hours, to the irritation of our neighbours. We used to unwind, free to talk nonsense, or read rubbish without feeling the time trickling away, that every hour should be used for something purposeful.
We certainly never imagined of a weekend like the one we just had. A good one, but full to the gills. Here is what we did just on Saturday. We reveled in the luxury of sleeping in until 7.45, Geekygirl having drifted back to sleep between us after a chorus of "Mummy, Daddy, get up, it's the weekend" at 6.00am. We ate Geekydaddy's Saturday pancakes (blackberry and banana this week), squeezed in a few episodes of Dora the Explorer, a couple of loads of laundry, and about a quarter of the newspaper, then headed out to Nordstrom for our biannual foot measuring, shoe buying spree. I was determined this year not to be caught short by the first rain of winter with kids who only own sandals, but September's early storm surprised me. Next time, rain, we'll be ready.
Geekygirl loves to shop, especially for clothes. She doesn't often get the chance, since I tend to buy online (where she gets to point at the pictures on the screen) or on my lunchbreak (though she squeals in delight when she spots the distinctive red and white "Target" bags in the trunk of the car.) Her apparel shopping trait first reared its head at a previous weekends outing, to the aquarium, where instead of choosing a stuffed animal or game as her souvenir, she grabbed a pink T shirt. Then at the zoo on a subsequent weekend she chose a rhinestone giraffe necklace. I am always torn as to whether to enter the gift shop or whisk the kids swiftly past it. Usually we go in, part because I recall how much I loved gift shops myself as a kid, and indeed treasured the felted plastic animals I bought at the wild animal park and the costumed dolls I collected on our trips to Europe. In addition, Geekygirl is terrified of the automatic flush toilets at the zoo, and I have taken to rewarding her bravery in using them with something from the shop.
The museum trips are worthwhile though. As she skipped along Mission St towards the department store Geekygirl pointed to a banner advertising the aquarium said 'Mummy, look, there's a leafy sea dragon!" The distinctive creature was indeed being used as advertising. We were filled with parental pride in our tiny naturalist, and figured the price of admission and souvenirs was worth something if she retained some knowledge of the world.
Shoe shopping with two small children can be challenging, so we have a divide and conquer approach. Geekydaddy took geekyboy and the stroller up in the elevator, quickly getting his measuring and fitting. As usual only the widest shoe in the shop was appropriate for him, this established by thrusting the shoes onto his resistant kicking feet while he lay on his back howling, undistracted by the rather nice fishtank provided for soothing entertainment of the tiny clientele. Geekygirl and I braved the thrilling escalators, the kind that encircle a central atrium giving a birds eye view of the mall. I persuaded her to get her feet measured, and then to select some shoes from the appropriate size rack. With an eye for the swankiest items, she picked out a black patent Michael Kors ballet flat with a big rhinestone buckle. Cute with a party dress, sure, I thought, but not everyday wear. I sensed a otential battleground, but she conceded to try on some white maryjanes with sturdy pink translucent soles and luckily fellinstantly in love with them. Before anyone melted down or changed their minds, and with Geekygirl still wearing her new shoes, we tried to whip the kids out of the store. The department store has kids clothing too, and geekygirl slipped of in the direction of the clothes. She found a pink and orange tie dye jersey dress with a ruffled ra ra skirt and a peace symbol in multicolored sparkles on the front. It was on the sale rack, and was so adorable that we added it to the bill and whisked them out before anything else caught her eye. As we strided over the shiny checkerboard floors, past the glittering perfume counters and jewelery displays she glanced around and asked in awe, "Mummy, is this like a castle?!"
One marathon task achieved without too many tears or public displays of defiance, and it was barely 11.00am; rolling out of bed time in our pre kid existence. Our next obligation was a birthday party down on the Peninsula, and we were actually running early. The mall was not yet busy, so we let the kids run and slide on the marble floors and took them for french fries down at the food court. I was nursing a slight hangover myself, which was ridiculous since I had barely three glasses of wine the night before, but that is what kids do to your alcohol tolerance, and the fries were most welcome.
The birthday party was of the best kind, at a sunny contained park with water and sand features, small enough that the kids could not get out of sight and the adults, fellow parents from our daycare, could chat with each other between tending to childrens needs. Geekygirl's fear of public bathrooms is always close to the surface, but she bravely told me that she needed to go. When we entered the stall she said to me "Mummy, does it have a dramatic flush?!"
I realized that she meant "Automatic flush", but I like her version, from now on that is how I am going to refer those scary, splashy, unpredictable, attention seeking, over the top toilets!
We left the party before anyone reached the end of their tether, and the kids crashed out in the car. According to our carefully laid plan this gave us a chance to stop on the way back and get groceries, using the power of our iphones to map the closest Trader Joes. Geekydaddy sat in the car with the sleepers while I whizzed around the store, balancing more ambitious items (will I actually find the time to make home made chicken stew to restock the freezer for kids lunches?) with tantrum forestalling easy essentials (Spaghetti O's and frozen meatballs).
Home again, shopping to unpack, laundry to fold, dinner to make and to eat, kids to bathe and read to, then a couple of precious hours of DVD time before we take ourselves back to bed in the hope that sleep allows us to pull some kind of strength from the universe to do the same thing, or something similar, again on Sunday.
The difference between pre and post kids is that the weekends are so long and intense, for working parents like us they are crazed mix of precious family moments and the drudgery of keeping our lives ticking over. I guess we must rejuvenate from the demanding routine of the work week with the exuberant unpredictabilty of the weekends, and then recover from those the weekends by surrendering back to the pressures of work. Don't breathe too hard, or the house of cards may tumble down.
Thinking about those pre kid days makes me realize that we could use one of those pre kid style weekends every now and again, to help us recover from the actual weekend.
We used to go out late in the evenings, to bars, concerts, restaurants, then more bars. We used to sleep late and then read the newspaper in bed, eat "brunch" at three in the afternoon at the latest trendy spot, lie around all day devouring novels or watching a marathon of movies. We used to read recipe books, shop and carefully cook meals to share with friends. We used to make huge jugs of Sangria and drink through them, talking and laughing about nothing for hours, to the irritation of our neighbours. We used to unwind, free to talk nonsense, or read rubbish without feeling the time trickling away, that every hour should be used for something purposeful.
We certainly never imagined of a weekend like the one we just had. A good one, but full to the gills. Here is what we did just on Saturday. We reveled in the luxury of sleeping in until 7.45, Geekygirl having drifted back to sleep between us after a chorus of "Mummy, Daddy, get up, it's the weekend" at 6.00am. We ate Geekydaddy's Saturday pancakes (blackberry and banana this week), squeezed in a few episodes of Dora the Explorer, a couple of loads of laundry, and about a quarter of the newspaper, then headed out to Nordstrom for our biannual foot measuring, shoe buying spree. I was determined this year not to be caught short by the first rain of winter with kids who only own sandals, but September's early storm surprised me. Next time, rain, we'll be ready.
Geekygirl loves to shop, especially for clothes. She doesn't often get the chance, since I tend to buy online (where she gets to point at the pictures on the screen) or on my lunchbreak (though she squeals in delight when she spots the distinctive red and white "Target" bags in the trunk of the car.) Her apparel shopping trait first reared its head at a previous weekends outing, to the aquarium, where instead of choosing a stuffed animal or game as her souvenir, she grabbed a pink T shirt. Then at the zoo on a subsequent weekend she chose a rhinestone giraffe necklace. I am always torn as to whether to enter the gift shop or whisk the kids swiftly past it. Usually we go in, part because I recall how much I loved gift shops myself as a kid, and indeed treasured the felted plastic animals I bought at the wild animal park and the costumed dolls I collected on our trips to Europe. In addition, Geekygirl is terrified of the automatic flush toilets at the zoo, and I have taken to rewarding her bravery in using them with something from the shop.
The museum trips are worthwhile though. As she skipped along Mission St towards the department store Geekygirl pointed to a banner advertising the aquarium said 'Mummy, look, there's a leafy sea dragon!" The distinctive creature was indeed being used as advertising. We were filled with parental pride in our tiny naturalist, and figured the price of admission and souvenirs was worth something if she retained some knowledge of the world.
Shoe shopping with two small children can be challenging, so we have a divide and conquer approach. Geekydaddy took geekyboy and the stroller up in the elevator, quickly getting his measuring and fitting. As usual only the widest shoe in the shop was appropriate for him, this established by thrusting the shoes onto his resistant kicking feet while he lay on his back howling, undistracted by the rather nice fishtank provided for soothing entertainment of the tiny clientele. Geekygirl and I braved the thrilling escalators, the kind that encircle a central atrium giving a birds eye view of the mall. I persuaded her to get her feet measured, and then to select some shoes from the appropriate size rack. With an eye for the swankiest items, she picked out a black patent Michael Kors ballet flat with a big rhinestone buckle. Cute with a party dress, sure, I thought, but not everyday wear. I sensed a otential battleground, but she conceded to try on some white maryjanes with sturdy pink translucent soles and luckily fellinstantly in love with them. Before anyone melted down or changed their minds, and with Geekygirl still wearing her new shoes, we tried to whip the kids out of the store. The department store has kids clothing too, and geekygirl slipped of in the direction of the clothes. She found a pink and orange tie dye jersey dress with a ruffled ra ra skirt and a peace symbol in multicolored sparkles on the front. It was on the sale rack, and was so adorable that we added it to the bill and whisked them out before anything else caught her eye. As we strided over the shiny checkerboard floors, past the glittering perfume counters and jewelery displays she glanced around and asked in awe, "Mummy, is this like a castle?!"
One marathon task achieved without too many tears or public displays of defiance, and it was barely 11.00am; rolling out of bed time in our pre kid existence. Our next obligation was a birthday party down on the Peninsula, and we were actually running early. The mall was not yet busy, so we let the kids run and slide on the marble floors and took them for french fries down at the food court. I was nursing a slight hangover myself, which was ridiculous since I had barely three glasses of wine the night before, but that is what kids do to your alcohol tolerance, and the fries were most welcome.
The birthday party was of the best kind, at a sunny contained park with water and sand features, small enough that the kids could not get out of sight and the adults, fellow parents from our daycare, could chat with each other between tending to childrens needs. Geekygirl's fear of public bathrooms is always close to the surface, but she bravely told me that she needed to go. When we entered the stall she said to me "Mummy, does it have a dramatic flush?!"
I realized that she meant "Automatic flush", but I like her version, from now on that is how I am going to refer those scary, splashy, unpredictable, attention seeking, over the top toilets!
We left the party before anyone reached the end of their tether, and the kids crashed out in the car. According to our carefully laid plan this gave us a chance to stop on the way back and get groceries, using the power of our iphones to map the closest Trader Joes. Geekydaddy sat in the car with the sleepers while I whizzed around the store, balancing more ambitious items (will I actually find the time to make home made chicken stew to restock the freezer for kids lunches?) with tantrum forestalling easy essentials (Spaghetti O's and frozen meatballs).
Home again, shopping to unpack, laundry to fold, dinner to make and to eat, kids to bathe and read to, then a couple of precious hours of DVD time before we take ourselves back to bed in the hope that sleep allows us to pull some kind of strength from the universe to do the same thing, or something similar, again on Sunday.
The difference between pre and post kids is that the weekends are so long and intense, for working parents like us they are crazed mix of precious family moments and the drudgery of keeping our lives ticking over. I guess we must rejuvenate from the demanding routine of the work week with the exuberant unpredictabilty of the weekends, and then recover from those the weekends by surrendering back to the pressures of work. Don't breathe too hard, or the house of cards may tumble down.
Thinking about those pre kid days makes me realize that we could use one of those pre kid style weekends every now and again, to help us recover from the actual weekend.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
The cutest age?
I have a good friend who has a daughter the same age as my Geekygirl. Whenever we hang out we talk about our girls, and for the last three and half years, without fail, at some point in the conversation she says "you know, this is such a fun age". I pointed out to her once that she seems to have found all the ages her daughter has reached fun so far, which is a testament to her joy in parenting, but I think she has put her finger on what we all so love so much about this daunting journey; every age is fun in its own way (at least so far, check back when Geekygirl turns thirteen).
I'm prompted to write today about my Geekyboy, though, because he really is at such a charming age. He is nineteen months old, on that cusp of transitioning from baby to little boy. At the moment he is such a sweetheart, such a cheery soul, and I'm sure any minute now he will turn into a cantankerous, challenging toddler, so I want to capture in words these last days of his babieness, lest I forget.
With a first child, the future is so unknown, it is impossible to imagine your adorable chunky thighed, pliable baby become that lithe, wild haired three year old sprite you watch sassing her mother in the grocery store. But with baby number two (or three or four, I imagine), the future of that baby is there staring at you through the eyes of his older sibling. I started thinking about this after looking at a calender on my kitchen wall, made by my sister from pictures of our children. September has a picture of Geekyboy, aged about 8 months, captured perfectly in character, beaming from ear to ear in a swing. I remember that little baby so well, but he is so different now from that not so distant moment.
I starting writing this blog for myself, and for friends and family, but am delighted and surprised to have garnered the attention of other readers. I apologize to you for the self indulgence of the rest of this post, surely of interest only to my friends and his grandparents.
This is wonder that is Geekybaby:
He greets me with pure delight, every single time we are reunited after being apart. I have never felt so adored. (Though the dog does come close in enthusiasm) This weekend, when I can home from the store he held me close then said "Jacket. Off", tugging at it, expressing perfectly clearly with two words that he felt that once home, I should stay home.
He recently pointed to the correct figure in his "ten little ladybugs" book and said "eight"! Sure, he said 'eight" when he pointed to the number nine on the next page too, but still, he knows that some words are numbers, and recognizes that those symbols denote that number. I was pretty impressed with such a skill at 19 months.
And just when I started to be concerned that he would grow into an emotionally stunted mathematical genius, today at dinner he said to us "Happy!" with a big beam. We have just started to have him join us at the table instead of sitting beside us in his high chair, and he is so delighted to be part of the family. Watching him understand that feelings can be described with words brought a smile to our faces. This is one of the most amazing concepts in human development, and I could witness it a million times and still be awed.
He is a conversationalist, he doesn't yet have a whole lot to say but will try to engage you in a chat about the things he knows about, like the parts of one's face, by asking "Mummy, ears?", tugging on either mine or his own, or his favourite animated characters, Dora and Boots, by producing their plastic likenesses and bouncing them along your arm for an adventure. (I don't think Geekygirl had even seen TV at his age, but for better or worse, this one is a Dora the Explorer fan already)
He is a laugher, producing peals if turned upside down, tickled on the thighs, or otherwise manhandled. Happiness is his default.
He is musical, bashing a maraca or drumstick against every available surface in time to the "lion king" soundtrack that has to be played incessantly every minute we are home (entirely my fault, I actually owned the recording long before I had kids and played it for Geekygirl when she recognized the pictures on the cover).
He is a cuddler, Sumo wrestler style. On the rare occasion that I sit down for ten minutes he runs and belly flops onto me over and over, occcasionally knocking the wind out of me, and becomes most indignant when I insist that it is Geekygirl's turn for some mummy time (When having a second child I put a lot of thought into the older being jealous of the younger, but not the opposite scenario, which happens more often every day).
I find it hard to imagine that this petal cheeked, long lashed baby boy will ever turn into a bestubbled, hairy legged, deep voiced man. I just hope the inetervening time goes by slowly!
I went last week to see David Cook in concert (I know, American Idol winner, not exactly cool but it was at the Fillmore, the best venue in SF, and he is actually quite talented. Honestly) It was a great show, but I realized how my perpsective had changed when I found myself watching David, and the cute young men in the band, tattooed and wild haired, but yet somehow still wholesome, and thinking "I bet their mothers are proud of them". I started fantasizing that Geekyboy's emerging talent for drums might turn into a rock and roll career for him, and a new roll for me, "Rock Mummy".
I'm prompted to write today about my Geekyboy, though, because he really is at such a charming age. He is nineteen months old, on that cusp of transitioning from baby to little boy. At the moment he is such a sweetheart, such a cheery soul, and I'm sure any minute now he will turn into a cantankerous, challenging toddler, so I want to capture in words these last days of his babieness, lest I forget.
With a first child, the future is so unknown, it is impossible to imagine your adorable chunky thighed, pliable baby become that lithe, wild haired three year old sprite you watch sassing her mother in the grocery store. But with baby number two (or three or four, I imagine), the future of that baby is there staring at you through the eyes of his older sibling. I started thinking about this after looking at a calender on my kitchen wall, made by my sister from pictures of our children. September has a picture of Geekyboy, aged about 8 months, captured perfectly in character, beaming from ear to ear in a swing. I remember that little baby so well, but he is so different now from that not so distant moment.
I starting writing this blog for myself, and for friends and family, but am delighted and surprised to have garnered the attention of other readers. I apologize to you for the self indulgence of the rest of this post, surely of interest only to my friends and his grandparents.
This is wonder that is Geekybaby:
He greets me with pure delight, every single time we are reunited after being apart. I have never felt so adored. (Though the dog does come close in enthusiasm) This weekend, when I can home from the store he held me close then said "Jacket. Off", tugging at it, expressing perfectly clearly with two words that he felt that once home, I should stay home.
He recently pointed to the correct figure in his "ten little ladybugs" book and said "eight"! Sure, he said 'eight" when he pointed to the number nine on the next page too, but still, he knows that some words are numbers, and recognizes that those symbols denote that number. I was pretty impressed with such a skill at 19 months.
And just when I started to be concerned that he would grow into an emotionally stunted mathematical genius, today at dinner he said to us "Happy!" with a big beam. We have just started to have him join us at the table instead of sitting beside us in his high chair, and he is so delighted to be part of the family. Watching him understand that feelings can be described with words brought a smile to our faces. This is one of the most amazing concepts in human development, and I could witness it a million times and still be awed.
He is a conversationalist, he doesn't yet have a whole lot to say but will try to engage you in a chat about the things he knows about, like the parts of one's face, by asking "Mummy, ears?", tugging on either mine or his own, or his favourite animated characters, Dora and Boots, by producing their plastic likenesses and bouncing them along your arm for an adventure. (I don't think Geekygirl had even seen TV at his age, but for better or worse, this one is a Dora the Explorer fan already)
He is a laugher, producing peals if turned upside down, tickled on the thighs, or otherwise manhandled. Happiness is his default.
He is musical, bashing a maraca or drumstick against every available surface in time to the "lion king" soundtrack that has to be played incessantly every minute we are home (entirely my fault, I actually owned the recording long before I had kids and played it for Geekygirl when she recognized the pictures on the cover).
He is a cuddler, Sumo wrestler style. On the rare occasion that I sit down for ten minutes he runs and belly flops onto me over and over, occcasionally knocking the wind out of me, and becomes most indignant when I insist that it is Geekygirl's turn for some mummy time (When having a second child I put a lot of thought into the older being jealous of the younger, but not the opposite scenario, which happens more often every day).
I find it hard to imagine that this petal cheeked, long lashed baby boy will ever turn into a bestubbled, hairy legged, deep voiced man. I just hope the inetervening time goes by slowly!
I went last week to see David Cook in concert (I know, American Idol winner, not exactly cool but it was at the Fillmore, the best venue in SF, and he is actually quite talented. Honestly) It was a great show, but I realized how my perpsective had changed when I found myself watching David, and the cute young men in the band, tattooed and wild haired, but yet somehow still wholesome, and thinking "I bet their mothers are proud of them". I started fantasizing that Geekyboy's emerging talent for drums might turn into a rock and roll career for him, and a new roll for me, "Rock Mummy".
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Mustration
Geekygirl's preschool class are learning about feelings. She was telling me about it on the drive home.
"Mummy" she said, "Mustration is a kind of feeling"
"It is?" I replied. I love the stream of conciousness conversations we have in the car, and try to draw them out as much as I can.
"Mustration is like when you have a Cinderella neckalace, but you left it in the classroom, and you can't go back in the classroom to get it because the classroom is closed" she described.
Pretty impressed with this accurate rendition of a frustrating situation, I wondered if she was describing something that had actually happened. I asked "Were you playing with a Cinderella necklace today?"
This was met with indignation. "NO, Mummy, I"m just talking about something that might happen that might make us feel mustrated.
The idea that she is able to imagine such a detailed situation and relate it to a feeling just blew me away. I don't think we are paying these preschool teachers enough, because they are turning my baby girl into a precocious genius child.
I don't think I developed the ability to discuss my feelings (well, while sober) until I was about 35.
"Mummy" she said, "Mustration is a kind of feeling"
"It is?" I replied. I love the stream of conciousness conversations we have in the car, and try to draw them out as much as I can.
"Mustration is like when you have a Cinderella neckalace, but you left it in the classroom, and you can't go back in the classroom to get it because the classroom is closed" she described.
Pretty impressed with this accurate rendition of a frustrating situation, I wondered if she was describing something that had actually happened. I asked "Were you playing with a Cinderella necklace today?"
This was met with indignation. "NO, Mummy, I"m just talking about something that might happen that might make us feel mustrated.
The idea that she is able to imagine such a detailed situation and relate it to a feeling just blew me away. I don't think we are paying these preschool teachers enough, because they are turning my baby girl into a precocious genius child.
I don't think I developed the ability to discuss my feelings (well, while sober) until I was about 35.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
The language teacher
The geekykids share a bedroom, and I sometimes hear snatches of their conversation. Geekygirl lays in bed narrating dramas for her plastic princesses (Cinderella and Belle go to the balls together, sleep in the same bed, and are both married to the same prince, the daddy doll from her doll house set. ) I'm not sure who she is modeling this family set up on, but it is certainly creative. Geekyboy has started to babble to himself, and I sometimes hear giggled almost conversations between the two of them. My dad, as a student and teacher of education, used to tape record my siblings and I as we played alone. The tapes are wonderful glimpses back to things I do not recall, and a fascinating window into the minds of the children we were. Video has replaced tape for capturing those fleeting gems, but there is something to be said for old fashioned "fly on the wall" eavesdropping.
Our mountain cabin has two loft rooms, one for us and one for the kids, divided by a single door, which we leave open. In such close proximity we are privy to more of their conversation. This morning as I drifted out of sleep at the almost reasonable hour of 6.45am I heard geekygirl saying " geekyboy , say "blanket" " He obliged with "ban key". Geekygirl continued her coaching with "paci", "window" and "princess" , geekyboy performing very well on these drills and enjoying the attention. "ah oo ah" (aurora) he said, presumably pointing at one of geekygirl's plastic bedmates. "no, that's Cinderella" geekygirl corrected. I think our son will soon be the only eighteen month old boy fluent in Disney princess naming.
Geekydaddy and I were smiling indulgently at each other by this point, when we heard "geekyboy, say pee pee". "pi pi" his baby voice piped back. "say poo poo" she continued. He indulged her. "say "head" she continued. "head!" he exclaimed, and we heard him batting himself on his head for emphasis. "now say 'poo poo head'" geekgirl commanded. "poo poo Edd" we heard. Then there was a pause, and I knew our quiet lie in was over. "Mummy! Geekyboy called me a poo poo head" geekygirl yelled.
Maybe this was a parenting moment that could have been used for teaching "not to manipulate others", but we were too busy laughing. I suspect geekyboy will give as good as he gets soon enough.
Our mountain cabin has two loft rooms, one for us and one for the kids, divided by a single door, which we leave open. In such close proximity we are privy to more of their conversation. This morning as I drifted out of sleep at the almost reasonable hour of 6.45am I heard geekygirl saying " geekyboy , say "blanket" " He obliged with "ban key". Geekygirl continued her coaching with "paci", "window" and "princess" , geekyboy performing very well on these drills and enjoying the attention. "ah oo ah" (aurora) he said, presumably pointing at one of geekygirl's plastic bedmates. "no, that's Cinderella" geekygirl corrected. I think our son will soon be the only eighteen month old boy fluent in Disney princess naming.
Geekydaddy and I were smiling indulgently at each other by this point, when we heard "geekyboy, say pee pee". "pi pi" his baby voice piped back. "say poo poo" she continued. He indulged her. "say "head" she continued. "head!" he exclaimed, and we heard him batting himself on his head for emphasis. "now say 'poo poo head'" geekgirl commanded. "poo poo Edd" we heard. Then there was a pause, and I knew our quiet lie in was over. "Mummy! Geekyboy called me a poo poo head" geekygirl yelled.
Maybe this was a parenting moment that could have been used for teaching "not to manipulate others", but we were too busy laughing. I suspect geekyboy will give as good as he gets soon enough.
Monday, August 10, 2009
young conversationalists
I love, love observing the kids learn language. I never tire of their new phrases, this window into their developing minds. Geekybaby wants so much to convey his thoughts. "Mummy head" he says, patting me on the hair, at least ten times a day. And this evening "Bye Bye Tub" he said, waving as I took him out of the bath!
Geekygirl, and three and a half now, surprised me in a new way last weekend. She loves to talk, and has a rich and varied vocabulary, but on a walk back from the lake with friends last weekend I realized how much of the conversation going on around her that she understands. My friend and I were discussing the vacations we took growing up, she escaping the heat of Phoenix for milder San Diego, I escaping British rain for French sun. Both enduring long car trips. We bantered our experiences back and forth, listening, laughing, and recognizing common threads in our experience.
As we chatted, oblivious to the kids sitting in their strollers, Geekygirl piped in "It was really hot in South Africa, and that is a long way away too". I was suddenly aware that my little girl listens to everything that goes on around her. I was impressed that she was able to come up with such a relevant experience, our recent vacation, to share. There is such a strong human desire to connect through conversation, I suppose, since that is what our relationships are founded upon. It was lovely to see in Geekygirl this desire to join in our conversation. She sounded so serious and adult, confident in her statement and its appropriateness.
Lovely this may be, and I look forward to many conversations in the future, but for now I must also remember that little ears are always listening when we least expect it!
Geekygirl, and three and a half now, surprised me in a new way last weekend. She loves to talk, and has a rich and varied vocabulary, but on a walk back from the lake with friends last weekend I realized how much of the conversation going on around her that she understands. My friend and I were discussing the vacations we took growing up, she escaping the heat of Phoenix for milder San Diego, I escaping British rain for French sun. Both enduring long car trips. We bantered our experiences back and forth, listening, laughing, and recognizing common threads in our experience.
As we chatted, oblivious to the kids sitting in their strollers, Geekygirl piped in "It was really hot in South Africa, and that is a long way away too". I was suddenly aware that my little girl listens to everything that goes on around her. I was impressed that she was able to come up with such a relevant experience, our recent vacation, to share. There is such a strong human desire to connect through conversation, I suppose, since that is what our relationships are founded upon. It was lovely to see in Geekygirl this desire to join in our conversation. She sounded so serious and adult, confident in her statement and its appropriateness.
Lovely this may be, and I look forward to many conversations in the future, but for now I must also remember that little ears are always listening when we least expect it!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
what's the weather?
Geekygirl loves to wear what she calls "summer short sleeves". This means tank top style spaghetti straps. It is rarely warm enough here to wear such skimpy clothing, so I usually insist upon a T shirt underneath her sundresses.
Every morning she checks the weather out of the window to help her decide what to wear. In Tahoe it is invariably warm with blue skies during the summer, so she excitedly exclaims "it is a beautiful blue sky day, so I can wear summer short sleeves", and proceeds to rummage through the bag of clothes we packed the night before (with at least 6 different outfits even though we are only gone for two days) for a favourite sundress.
Back here in the city, August has been a Mark Twain summer (some say he once wrote that the coldest winter he ever spent was the summer in San Francisco), so when Geekygirl twitched her curtains for a glimpse of the outdoors this morning before choosing her outfit, she said to me sadly "Mummy, it's really froggy today".
I'm sure there are many folks in other parts of this country who believe San Francisco is overdue some kind of biblical plague of amphibians, but I'm happy to report that the weather is just the usual low, damp, maritime layer of cloud!
Every morning she checks the weather out of the window to help her decide what to wear. In Tahoe it is invariably warm with blue skies during the summer, so she excitedly exclaims "it is a beautiful blue sky day, so I can wear summer short sleeves", and proceeds to rummage through the bag of clothes we packed the night before (with at least 6 different outfits even though we are only gone for two days) for a favourite sundress.
Back here in the city, August has been a Mark Twain summer (some say he once wrote that the coldest winter he ever spent was the summer in San Francisco), so when Geekygirl twitched her curtains for a glimpse of the outdoors this morning before choosing her outfit, she said to me sadly "Mummy, it's really froggy today".
I'm sure there are many folks in other parts of this country who believe San Francisco is overdue some kind of biblical plague of amphibians, but I'm happy to report that the weather is just the usual low, damp, maritime layer of cloud!
Thursday, June 18, 2009
on language
There are so many intangible pleasures of watching one's kids grow up. Delight in their delights, amazement at their imagination, and the sheer joy of snuggling with a pudgy infant who changes almost daily into a little person. For me though, my greatest fascination is with the development of language. I feel such a leap of understanding and connection when the kids can explain to me what is going on in their inner world. Of course we communicate before there are words, but this language explosion is such a fabulous, unique, human thing, that I find myself constantly amazed by it.
Many people told me "Oh, if you have a girl first and then a boy don't worry that he is developmentally retarded, boys just speak late". But Geekybaby seems to be breaking the mold, maybe he falls more into the "Second kids speak earlier than first kids because they want to talk to their sibling"theory. Because our two kids were born within a few days of each other, separated by two years, it is easy to compare milestones. Geekygirl went through her "language explosion" at about 18-20 months. Geekybaby had his first words at just over 12 months, and now must have 10 or 20. I'll list them at the end of the post, for posterity. And for grandparents!
This week we had our first true conversation. I was sitting on the living room floor, next to the dogs bed, and Geekybaby came over and said "Dog. Woof. Where?" in a quizzical tone, and pointed to the empty dog bed. "Are you asking where the dog is?" I clarified. "Yeh" he said, and nodded. "I think she is in the kitchen" I told him. "Oh!" he exclaimed, and toddled in that direction to find Geekydog, and obtain his daily big sloppy dog kiss.
I sat back and went over this little conversation, and was awed by the fact that my little 16 months old and I can understand each other through language already.
Geekygirl, also a prodigy in her mummy's eyes, talks non stop, I love this window into her mind. She made me laugh with this little exchange on the drive home from preschool. She has become interested in age, in particular the fact that she is 2 years older than her brother. "How old will he be when I'm 10?" she asks "Well he is two years younger, and 10 minus 2 is 8" I reply. This conversation can go on for a while, but should be productive in mathematical learning (She can add, but subtraction is still a mystery). Then I heard "How old are you mummy?" "I'm 38" I replied.
"How old will you be when I'm 38?" She asked. This challenged my mental arithmetic skills and cast my thoughts into the unimaginable future, but I managed to reply, with a sigh, "I'll be 72".
Geekybaby's word list:
Mummy, Daddy, Ball, Book (first word!), cheese, cracker, milk, dog, woof, yes, no, ball, balloon, bubble, airplane, apple, neigh, moo, baa, pig, cow, quack, duck, fish, shoes, socks(gocks), up all done, bird, baby, sister, tub, whats that?, where, open.
Many people told me "Oh, if you have a girl first and then a boy don't worry that he is developmentally retarded, boys just speak late". But Geekybaby seems to be breaking the mold, maybe he falls more into the "Second kids speak earlier than first kids because they want to talk to their sibling"theory. Because our two kids were born within a few days of each other, separated by two years, it is easy to compare milestones. Geekygirl went through her "language explosion" at about 18-20 months. Geekybaby had his first words at just over 12 months, and now must have 10 or 20. I'll list them at the end of the post, for posterity. And for grandparents!
This week we had our first true conversation. I was sitting on the living room floor, next to the dogs bed, and Geekybaby came over and said "Dog. Woof. Where?" in a quizzical tone, and pointed to the empty dog bed. "Are you asking where the dog is?" I clarified. "Yeh" he said, and nodded. "I think she is in the kitchen" I told him. "Oh!" he exclaimed, and toddled in that direction to find Geekydog, and obtain his daily big sloppy dog kiss.
I sat back and went over this little conversation, and was awed by the fact that my little 16 months old and I can understand each other through language already.
Geekygirl, also a prodigy in her mummy's eyes, talks non stop, I love this window into her mind. She made me laugh with this little exchange on the drive home from preschool. She has become interested in age, in particular the fact that she is 2 years older than her brother. "How old will he be when I'm 10?" she asks "Well he is two years younger, and 10 minus 2 is 8" I reply. This conversation can go on for a while, but should be productive in mathematical learning (She can add, but subtraction is still a mystery). Then I heard "How old are you mummy?" "I'm 38" I replied.
"How old will you be when I'm 38?" She asked. This challenged my mental arithmetic skills and cast my thoughts into the unimaginable future, but I managed to reply, with a sigh, "I'll be 72".
Geekybaby's word list:
Mummy, Daddy, Ball, Book (first word!), cheese, cracker, milk, dog, woof, yes, no, ball, balloon, bubble, airplane, apple, neigh, moo, baa, pig, cow, quack, duck, fish, shoes, socks(gocks), up all done, bird, baby, sister, tub, whats that?, where, open.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Pretty Mummy
Lately I have been getting called "poo poo head" a lot. Which is preferable to being hit, but still I'm not too delighted with this. I'm all for creative nicknames though, so I asked my daughter what she thought I might like to be called instead, and she came up with some good ideas, one of which was "pretty mummy". Since then, every time she wants to make a point, she has been using that moniker instead. A great improvement and much better for my self esteem.
Until today. I do daycare pick up, so every evening we all come into the house, and we have a routine; Geekygirl closes the garage door with the magic button and runs upstairs. Orangegeek the cat slips into the garage and pees on the car tires, and I chase him ineffectively around the garage for a while until he decides to head back up to the house, then I stagger up the stairs with Geekybaby (now such a large lad that he needs to be renamed Geekyboy, or Geekylinebacker), balanced on one hip, and the lunchbags, my laptop, and my purse giving ballast on the opposite shoulder.
Geekygirl usually changes into her pink tutu, her pink and orange swimsuit, or her pink sleeping beauty costume as soon as she gets home. She is big on pink these days. Some feminist Mums I know get oddly angry about pink. I've seen long emails on our parent group requesting advice on how to stop little girls gettings sucked into the Disney marketing pink machine. Personally I don't have the energy, and besides, I quite like pink. I think us feminists should reclaim it and make it our own.
I, after starting the kids dinner, letting the dog out and feeding the cats, change into my "I'm relaxed and I'm home" gear; slipper socks, tatty grey sweatpants and an old blue sweatshirt with native american symbols embroidered on it that I bought in Bryce Canyon when we camped there back in July 2002, and got caught in a freak snowstorm. This evening when I reappeared in the kitchen so attired I heard "But Mummy, you are not pretty". I looked down at myself and realized the truth in that statement. Comfy, but really not pretty. I've let myself go.
Maybe it is time for me to get myself a nice comfy tutu to change into when I get home from work. Or at least some pink sweatpants and a spangly sweater!
Until today. I do daycare pick up, so every evening we all come into the house, and we have a routine; Geekygirl closes the garage door with the magic button and runs upstairs. Orangegeek the cat slips into the garage and pees on the car tires, and I chase him ineffectively around the garage for a while until he decides to head back up to the house, then I stagger up the stairs with Geekybaby (now such a large lad that he needs to be renamed Geekyboy, or Geekylinebacker), balanced on one hip, and the lunchbags, my laptop, and my purse giving ballast on the opposite shoulder.
Geekygirl usually changes into her pink tutu, her pink and orange swimsuit, or her pink sleeping beauty costume as soon as she gets home. She is big on pink these days. Some feminist Mums I know get oddly angry about pink. I've seen long emails on our parent group requesting advice on how to stop little girls gettings sucked into the Disney marketing pink machine. Personally I don't have the energy, and besides, I quite like pink. I think us feminists should reclaim it and make it our own.
I, after starting the kids dinner, letting the dog out and feeding the cats, change into my "I'm relaxed and I'm home" gear; slipper socks, tatty grey sweatpants and an old blue sweatshirt with native american symbols embroidered on it that I bought in Bryce Canyon when we camped there back in July 2002, and got caught in a freak snowstorm. This evening when I reappeared in the kitchen so attired I heard "But Mummy, you are not pretty". I looked down at myself and realized the truth in that statement. Comfy, but really not pretty. I've let myself go.
Maybe it is time for me to get myself a nice comfy tutu to change into when I get home from work. Or at least some pink sweatpants and a spangly sweater!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
defining a grown up
What does it take to be a grown up? Here is geekygirl's take on it:
Geekygirl: "Mummy, Its Lydia's birthday tomorrow (Lydia is a doll). Lydia is 5 years old on her birthday. Her can have five cakes"
Me: "I think you mean she can have five candles on her cake"
Geekygirl: "No, five cakes and five candles. Her is a grown up"
Me: "Really?"
Geekygirl: "Yes, her is a gwown up, so her can drink coffee and wine and her can have vita-wims (vitamins)"
Me: "Wow, five cakes, wine, coffee and vita-wims. She is really grown up".
Geekgirl: "and her has huge feet".
So that's it, being grown up means that you can have, wine, coffee, cake, vitamins and huge feet. I guess the first three make the latter worth it.
I can't resist repeating back her vita-wim pronunciation, though I know I should correct it. I love Vita-wims. They sound lively and whimsical. Perhaps they are a family of healthy yet unpredictable creatures that live in your medicine cabinet? Maybe a lucrative children's book franchise?!
Geekygirl: "Mummy, Its Lydia's birthday tomorrow (Lydia is a doll). Lydia is 5 years old on her birthday. Her can have five cakes"
Me: "I think you mean she can have five candles on her cake"
Geekygirl: "No, five cakes and five candles. Her is a grown up"
Me: "Really?"
Geekygirl: "Yes, her is a gwown up, so her can drink coffee and wine and her can have vita-wims (vitamins)"
Me: "Wow, five cakes, wine, coffee and vita-wims. She is really grown up".
Geekgirl: "and her has huge feet".
So that's it, being grown up means that you can have, wine, coffee, cake, vitamins and huge feet. I guess the first three make the latter worth it.
I can't resist repeating back her vita-wim pronunciation, though I know I should correct it. I love Vita-wims. They sound lively and whimsical. Perhaps they are a family of healthy yet unpredictable creatures that live in your medicine cabinet? Maybe a lucrative children's book franchise?!
Thursday, November 20, 2008
cute sayings
One of the things I love about watching the kids grow is hearing new language coming out of their little mouths. Geekybaby has mastered his da da da's and ga ga ga's, and I swear he said 'kitty' the other day. Baby talk is cute, of course, but what I'm really excited about is all the little turns of phrase that Geekygirl is coming up with. Sometimes she just sounds so grown up for not even three. Her latest word is "actually", and this is how I first heard it:
One of her dolls "Lydia" has a little blue and yellow striped skirt that Geekygirl calls her 'underwear'. Grandma has just knitted a lovely yellow sweater for this doll, so I said "Oh, the sweater matches the stripes in Lydia's underwear.
Geekygirl replied "That is not her underwear, actually, Mummy (with great emphasis on this new word). It's her skirt". I guess that told me!
One of her dolls "Lydia" has a little blue and yellow striped skirt that Geekygirl calls her 'underwear'. Grandma has just knitted a lovely yellow sweater for this doll, so I said "Oh, the sweater matches the stripes in Lydia's underwear.
Geekygirl replied "That is not her underwear, actually, Mummy (with great emphasis on this new word). It's her skirt". I guess that told me!
Monday, November 3, 2008
another pet?
With two cats and a dog at home, I don't think we really need more pets. But Geekygirl has decided that a rapidly deflating halloween balloon is her imaginary dog, "Giddy". Giddy is two years old, and "her got a new leash for her birthday". Giddy celebrated with a green cake made from peas and beans, with two candles on it.
A house full of lovingly chosen toys, and she spends hours playing with a balloon. I think that is pretty cool.
A house full of lovingly chosen toys, and she spends hours playing with a balloon. I think that is pretty cool.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
a sweet sibling moment.
I know that siblings can have very different personalities, and that being related to someone doesn't mean that you will get along well with them, but I do hope that my two kids will become close, and enjoy each others company. I love my own two siblings; of course we fought as children, but most of the time we got along really well, and do to this day. I want this for my children too.
To this end, avid reader that I am, I got hold of 'siblings without rivalry' by adele faber and elaine mazlish. I rave about this book to other parents, because there have been so many occasions where I have used their advice, and been amazed by the effectiveness. They believe that your parenting style can affect how well your kids interact with each other (Though make no claims to make them love each other all the time!) I was reminded again of how glad I am to have read this book during a little exchange with geekygirl last night and this morning. To put this in context I have just returned from a weekend in Vegas for the bachelorette party of a dear friend. The kids were home alone with dad, and despite remaining in their pyjamas for 48 hrs, had a pretty good time without me. Mummy's attention is at a premium now that I am back, though.
Last night I was drying geekygirl after her tub, when she said to me
"can we put geekybaby away?"
My natural instinct (after laughing a little) would be to respond with a "no, he lives here too, and he's your brother, you love your brother, right?"
But primed by "siblings" who tell you that all of your childrens' feelings are acceptable and should not be denied, and that by allowing the very natural negative feelings about each other to be voiced, the kids ultimately get along better, I empathized instead: "it can be hard to have a brother sometimes. Do you wish it could be just you and mummy and daddy?"
"Yes", she nodded, "can we put him away?"
"Where should we put him?" I mused. "In the cupboard?" That idea was met with approval. I decided to test the deepness of her desire to be rid of her brother and asked "Should we leave him at daycare?". "No" said geekygirl emphatically, "I want to put him in a cup." "The cupboard?" I corrected. "No, a cup, a big cup." she replied, and with that rather adorable mental picture formed, we left off the conversation.
This morning, when we went in to get geekybaby up for the day she requested to give him a big hug, as she often does. This time she kissed him between the eyes and said "I love him soooo much"!
And my heart melted, of course!
To this end, avid reader that I am, I got hold of 'siblings without rivalry' by adele faber and elaine mazlish. I rave about this book to other parents, because there have been so many occasions where I have used their advice, and been amazed by the effectiveness. They believe that your parenting style can affect how well your kids interact with each other (Though make no claims to make them love each other all the time!) I was reminded again of how glad I am to have read this book during a little exchange with geekygirl last night and this morning. To put this in context I have just returned from a weekend in Vegas for the bachelorette party of a dear friend. The kids were home alone with dad, and despite remaining in their pyjamas for 48 hrs, had a pretty good time without me. Mummy's attention is at a premium now that I am back, though.
Last night I was drying geekygirl after her tub, when she said to me
"can we put geekybaby away?"
My natural instinct (after laughing a little) would be to respond with a "no, he lives here too, and he's your brother, you love your brother, right?"
But primed by "siblings" who tell you that all of your childrens' feelings are acceptable and should not be denied, and that by allowing the very natural negative feelings about each other to be voiced, the kids ultimately get along better, I empathized instead: "it can be hard to have a brother sometimes. Do you wish it could be just you and mummy and daddy?"
"Yes", she nodded, "can we put him away?"
"Where should we put him?" I mused. "In the cupboard?" That idea was met with approval. I decided to test the deepness of her desire to be rid of her brother and asked "Should we leave him at daycare?". "No" said geekygirl emphatically, "I want to put him in a cup." "The cupboard?" I corrected. "No, a cup, a big cup." she replied, and with that rather adorable mental picture formed, we left off the conversation.
This morning, when we went in to get geekybaby up for the day she requested to give him a big hug, as she often does. This time she kissed him between the eyes and said "I love him soooo much"!
And my heart melted, of course!
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