Posted in Daily Life, Uncategorized, tagged childhood, parenting on February 11, 2016| 2 Comments »
Lately there have been bits of unexpected beauty popping up in the house thanks to the Boo.
First up, the giant paint swirl he made after I gave him a bunch of small pots of paint:
Then, the aesthetically pleasing line of paint pots he made when I asked him to put a few colors back: 
And finally, my personal favorite, the sculpture that appeared after I asked him to put his breakfast plate in the sink: 
Enjoy, friends — and happy February.
Posted in Daily Life, Milestones, tagged motherhood, parenting, preschoolers on January 27, 2016| 2 Comments »
The Boo has always been reluctant to tell us about school. If we ask him directly, “What happened at school?” he will make a game of saying “I don’t know” or “It’s a secret.” Even when I try to be sly about it and ask open-ended questions like “Who brought snack?” or “Who was class leader?” he will often dodge or shrug. Ah, the joys of being four. You have so little power that you get very creative about wielding what little you have.
But last week, something changed. We were having lunch at home and I had been talking about something that was sad (I think). Then he looked at me with the Face of Seriousness and said, “I cried at school today Mama. For real.”
A miracle occurred and I kept a straight face (the Face of Seriousness is somehow very funny to me). Then I said, “Really? Tell me more about that.” (Yes I really did speak like a therapist — it was the first prompt that came to me and I was desperate to keep the conversation going.)
“Tinkerbell (not her real name) told me to stay in the house.”
“Huh. Why did she say that?”
“She had to go shopping. I wanted to go with her but she said to stay in the house and that hurt my feelings.”
Here I should explain that Tinkerbell is his best buddy at school, and the first kid he has had a deep connection with. They are so close that people make jokes about them getting married. For real.
We talked a bit more about the House Incident, finished our lunch, cleared our places and had time to play before rest time. Then he piped up again, with another Serious Face.
“Mama, I’m worried about kindergarten.”
“Why are you worried, sweetheart?”
“I don’t want to be away from you for a long time. And I won’t be able to be
with Tinkerbell.”
Yikes. A year and a half of radio silence and now two big emotional bombs in the space of an hour. I guess this is what They refer to as growth happening in fits and starts.
“Well honey, you won’t go to kindergarten for a long time. And it’s true you probably won’t be with Tinkerbell, but you can still play with her sometimes and be her friend. The other thing is, you’ll meet new kids, and some of those kids will become your friends. ”
He thought about that for a bit and asked, “Will my teachers be there?”
Lordy. He really is taking after me in the emotional attachment department. “No, you will have different teachers. But I bet they will be really nice just like your teachers are now.”
We continued in this vein for a while, with him worrying and me reassuring. I guess he’s making up for lost time — and on the whole, I’d rather have a kid who talks to me than one who clams up.
Posted in Daily Life, tagged childhood, humor, motherhood, parenting, preschoolers on January 15, 2016| Leave a Comment »
Sunday morning, as most mornings since Christmas, you ask me, “Do you want to build a power circuit, Mama?” You mean you want to play with your Snap Circuit set, undoubtedly your most favorite toy ever, and the first plaything that has held your interest for long stretches.
Naturally, I say yes. I would love to build a power circuit, which one do you want to build?
Sunday afternoon, as always, is prime bath time, but lately you’ve been resisting the whole getting clean in the tub thing. So I have a strategy in place.
“Would you like to clean your bath toys?”
You are excited about this idea because it involves a spray bottle. I fill it with Special Bath Toy Cleaning Liquid (water, a squirt of Dawn, plus the “magic ingredient” of a few shakes of salt). You quickly decide you should be naked for your task. Once that’s achieved you set to work, then shift to running experiments (you’ve been watching a lot of Bill Nye the Science Guy and listening to Here Comes Science by They Might Be Giants pretty much nonstop.).
Later you decide that you should step out of the tub, put a towel over your head, and yell, “chemical reaction” over and over. Eventually, we wash your hair and body, and I still have to coax you away from your toy cleanin/science experiments over an hour after we started.
Monday morning brings a big decision: what to bring for Show and Share. You had settled on your baby monitor because you wanted to see what would happen if you turned it on at school. At the last minute, you switch to a Lego-like vehicle you call “Katy” after the protagonist of Katy and the Big Snow by Virginia Lee Burton, your current favorite book.
Afternoon snack time at home is a good time to slyly extract information about your school day. I inquire about Show and Share and you tell me your friends asked if Katy was a storm trooper. Then you tell me you said yes.
Tuesday morning school prep goes off without too much strife, though I have to turn off the giant piano you got for Christmas to get you to put your socks and boots on. I consider relocating the giant piano.
We read The Lorax before your rest time. You love the part where the sludge from the Sneed factory goes into the pond. I decide not to press the point that this is a very bad development for the humming fish, because you love the book so much.
You emerge from your afternoon rest time in a state I can only describe as highly emotional. You are whiny and want me to carry you everywhere and burst into tears when you have trouble selecting a cartoon. I am flummoxed. Grammie texts me about coming over early for book club and I say yes please, now would be great thank you.
As I prep to host what you call “the ladies” you hang out with Grammie and “help” me make brownies and spinach dip. When I change from loungewear into real pants and a more presentable Tshirt/sweater combo, you declare that I look great for the ladies.
Daddy puts you to bed as the ladies arrive, but summons me when there is a crisis involving a crying jag. It turns out that Katy, the Lego-like toy you took to Show and Share, is missing a part. This is a crisis because you sleep with Katy and she has to have the right parts to protect her. You are also begging to come say goodnight to the ladies. I locate the part on the floor and fix her up for you. You beg again to come downstairs. I say no, again, knowing how a trip downstairs will rile you up, and promise that you can meet them another time. I give you bunches of kisses, and Katy blows kisses to me as Daddy starts reading the Katy book to you.
One of the ladies brings a play tent her kids have outgrown. I set it up in your play area after the ladies leave. In the morning you immediately crawl in and declare yourself to be the queen of the castle (maybe because it’s pink and purple?). Later you refer to yourself as the Prince of the Morning Pajamas. Then you take the tent poles apart and collapse it so you can “get into the attic.”
We have time before school to read the Lorax, which has knocked Katy off the current favorite book pedestal. We pause for a discussion about why the brown Bar-ba-loots have crummies in their tummies and what it’s like to not have enough to eat. 24 hours after hearing the book for the first time, you listen to the pollution messages with a look of concern.
And that, my friends, is what life is like with the Boo.
Posted in Daily Life, tagged childhood, Christmas, humor, parenting on January 8, 2016| Leave a Comment »
You had your third Christmas.
You were introduced to the idea that you can ask Santa to bring you specific things.
You once again gave Santa a wide berth at the mall, gripping Mama’s hand tightly and saying “I don’t want to look at him, Mama.”
You wrote Santa a letter (using Mama as a scribe) for the first time. You asked for a lava lamp and a water gun. You added a “please” after Mama suggested making it a polite request.
You had a young house guest to play with. You got on beautifully together, which made the adults very happy. You did a lot of painting with her, vying for space and smearing a glue stick over her creations. Now that she’s gone, the easel is feeling neglected.
You were sick for about half your holiday break, so you watched more cartoons than usual, introducing your houseguest to Totoro.
You spent tons of time playing with your cousins, disappearing with them into Grammie’s basement for long stretches.
You did a great job taking turns opening presents with your cousins – it was the first year you had to do that.
You went on the Polar Express train ride with the whole family. You rejected the hot chocolate in favor of water, but you loved the cookie. You and Mama both found the music to be shockingly loud. But Mama was even more shocked that you peeled yourself away from her to get up and dance with your cousins.
You received a Snap Circuits set, which you were instantly and intensely fascinated with. It has taken up permanent residence on the dining room table. Even two weeks later, you still ask to build a “power circuit” almost every morning.
You received Here Comes Science by They Might Be Giants (CD and DVD set). It’s currently in heavy rotation in the car and DVD player. Your favorites so far are “Meet the Elements” and “Electric Car.”
You received several Junior Legos sets, which you are surprisingly adept at putting together.
You mentioned missing a classmate (only one, your best buddy) exactly one time.
You were delighted and amazed that Santa came through with the gifts you requested.
You went to the science center as a gift from your uncle – and you’ve been asking to go back ever since.
You were not excited about the idea of returning to school.
You had your third Christmas. It was your best one yet.
Posted in Books, Daily Life, tagged childhood, humor, kids books, motherhood, parenting on December 12, 2015| Leave a Comment »
It’s been amazingly/frighteningly warm for December, with rain instead of snow in the forecast. Nevertheless, I’ve been reading seasonally appropriate books to the Boo — The Snowy Day, Snowmen At Night, and Raymond Briggs’ classic The Snowman.
For the unfamiliar, this lovely book has no words, just small soft-edged drawings with an impressive amount of nuance. A boy builds a snowman, goes to sleep, then wakes in the night and has an adventure with his creation. I was curious to see how the Boo would react to the lack of words (he didn’t) and the fanciful plot line (again, no comment on a snowman walking and flying).
What really got him going was what they did in the house. In one part that I found funny and charming, the snowman tries on the boy’s father’s clothes.
“Mama! They shouldn’t be doing that, Mama!”
Also, the boy turns on the stove.
“Mama! He shouldn’t be doing that! Why is he doing that?”
And horror of horrors, the snowman climbs into the deep freeze.
“Why is he doing that! He shouldn’t be in there Mama!”
I explained that the boy wants to show the Snowman everything it was his first time in a house, but that didn’t make much of a dent in my kid’s unease that they were breaking the rules. Maybe I should have pointed out that the boy was dreaming and told him there are no rules in dreams.
Or maybe it’s time to introduce the concept of willing suspension of disbelief.
Posted in Daily Life, tagged humor, Kids, motherhood, parenting, preschool on October 30, 2015| 1 Comment »
I share a lot of sweetness on this blog, and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. This is not a magical house where no one ever yells or makes mistakes. Case in point: the story of the last few days.
Two days ago, the Boo was in a state of what I can only call emotional overdrive. Every answer that was not to his liking brought tears, hitting, throwing or screaming (thankfully not all at the same time). The high point, drama-wise, was when he hurled a cereal bar across the room because I said “You’ve had a lot of treats today, so that’s not one of the choices right now.”
He ended up losing his cartoon privileges, which made him very sad. I know this because he said, over and over and over, “I’m sad I lost my cartoons, Mama.” And cried. Quite a bit. Initially I comforted him tenderly, but by the 17th time I was mumbling, “Mm-hm.” because as far as I could tell, he just needed to hear himself say it.
Yesterday, pre-nap time was the minefield. He didn’t want to even try to take off his shoes or hang up his jacket, because “I don’t have enough energy, Mama.” When I asked him to try and said I would help him if he needed help, he dissolved in tears. After a while, I said, out loud, “You know what, it isn’t worth it,” and took off his shoes and socks and hung up his jacket.
But that’s not where the fun ended, oh no.
On our way upstairs, he asked me a series of questions about the furnace, because that’s his wheelhouse. Questions about mechanical stuff. Sometimes he doesn’t even wait for the answer before he asks another question. He asked a fairly technical question about the humidifier and instead of making up an answer, which is what I do half the time because I get tired of saying “I don’t know,” I was honest and said “I don’t know.”
He screamed at me. Seriously. I turned and looked at him with my right eyebrow raised as far as it would go. I managed to ratchet the eyebrow a bit higher. I turned away and walked into the kitchen. I thought for a moment and said, “I know you’re frustrated but it is never okay to scream at me. If you choose to scream at me again I will not read you any books at nap time.”
He did not scream at me again. Probably because he really loves books.
He did, however, cry repeatedly about every tiny thing he was unhappy about while I was trying to brush his teeth. Not enough toothpaste. The wrong toothpaste. Me asking him to stop jumping while I brushed his teeth. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and started mock-crying with him. “My fingers are too short, boo-hoo! Waaaaah, my nose itches! Waah, I don’t like that rug!”
Thankfully, my strategy did not backfire. I got him to laugh-cry, and the rest of the day was relatively drama-free.
Maybe I should have put on a show sooner…
Posted in Daily Life, Uncategorized, tagged childhood, children, motherhood, parenting on September 29, 2015| Leave a Comment »
You grew an inch in the past six weeks, but did not gain any weight despite consuming spoons of peanut butter on a regular basis.
You selected the colors for Mama’s most recent pedicure:
You started a five-mornings-a-week program at your school and are adjusting well, though Mama has noticed that you are more apt to want to cuddle with her. You also seem to have forgotten how to wash your hands at home.
You are enthralled by the Madeline books, a taste you come by honestly — Mama loved them when she was your age.
You talk about death a lot, saying things like, “I don’t want to die,” and “Do you want to die, Mama?” This has been going on, off and on, for at least six months, but this time it’s more intense. We are being honest and kind with our answers, so you know that everyone dies but usually when they’re very old or sick.
You seem to be enjoying school, though it’s a bit tough to tell since you have made a game of not telling us anything about your day. You insist for example that you don’t know who you sat next to at snack, or that it’s a secret.
You sometimes share details of your day in transitory moments, like the car on the way home from school. The other day you divulged that you had declared your love for a girl in your class. Another day, you excitedly taught Mama a new song while we were walking across the parking lot after school.
You want to go to our little neighborhood park every day.
You love the Sound of Music soundtrack and know most of the words to most of the songs. We know this because we overhear you singing them when you think we’re not paying attention.
You have developed a serious nail-biting habit. The paint-on remedy is not doing much to deter you. Mama is considering digging out the teething toys.
You are reasonably proficient at putting your clothes on, though whenever you get your underwear or shorts backwards you leave them that way, declaring that’s how you like to wear them.
You’ve started your first session of swim lessons without Mama in the water with you, and your teacher says you’re doing great. It helps that you have a buddy from school in the class — so you both have a friend to splash.
You named a bunch of adults, including Mama and Daddy, when asked who your friends are.
You asked a teacher — from another class — if she loves you. (She said she does.)
You asked both your teachers if they will miss you when you go home.
You asked Mama if she misses you when she’s walking down the stairs with you.
You clearly have a lot going on in that sweet little noggin.
Posted in Daily Life, tagged birthday, motherhood on September 16, 2015| Leave a Comment »
As I get older, I care less about my birthday. Case in point: when my mom asked what I wanted this year, I told her, truthfully, that I want to go to a movie. We’ll be doing that soon, but in the meantime the actual day was pretty awesome. Here are a few of the reasons why:
– My kid walked away from me, happy to play with a buddy, when I dropped him off at school. A year ago, we had an elaborate separation ritual involving angst and tears, so I am thrilled to see him so comfortable.
– I had a lap lane all to myself. For the whole time I swam.
– I saw a nun driving along in a wimple and ear buds, which made me laugh out loud.
– I got to run errands by myself while sipping on my favorite coffee drink ever and enjoying the endorphin high I’d gotten from swimming.
– My son sent me flowers. Okay, my husband sent me flowers with a message that read like it was from our kid. He’s done this every year since the Boo was born, and it’s now one of my favorite things about my birthday.
– My mom brought us cupcakes!
– The Boo crashed out super early (thanks to a skipped nap) so I got lots of relaxed time with the hubs at the end of the day. (Translation: we drank port and watched the season finale of “American Ninja Warrior” which definitely counts as quality spousal time these days.)
Posted in Daily Life, tagged motherhood on August 27, 2015| Leave a Comment »
My kid is very cuddly when he wakes up, and often asks me to climb into bed with him. He asks with his sleepy, sweet voice, “Mama, come cuddle with me.” I realize these moments of pure affection will dwindle, and he tends to say very sweet things first thing in the morning, so I always say yes and squeeze in among the stuffed animals and miles of little boy legs. Also, it’s almost like going back to bed, which always feels like a treat.
One recent morning when we were snuggled up, he popped his thumb out of his mouth and said, “Mama, there are eggs in you.”
Here I should pause to say that he understands the rudiments of reproduction: There is an egg and there is sperm and they are mixed together and the baby grows in the mama’s tummy. We’ll cover the details later.
“Yes, there are.” I replied.
“I need you to mix them with some of Daddy’s sperm and grow a new Boo for me to play with.” (This is a verbatim quote — he actually used his nickname.)
Here I should pause to say that for reasons too personal to go into here, this is not going to happen. He is an only child, and unless a baby drops from the sky into my arms, he will remain an only child. And we are all fine and happy with that for the most part.
I made some sort of noncommittal statement like “Oh honey,” playing for time. He stayed silent, thumb back in his mouth, waiting for more information to respond to. Then I said something true but vague like, “We are so happy with just one Boo, sweetheart.”
Amazingly, he did not pepper me with questions or arguments as he usually does. But as I thought about it later, what really struck me was that he isn’t asking for a brother or sister. He’s asking for a carbon copy of himself.
Posted in Daily Life, tagged humor, motherhood, parenting on July 30, 2015| 2 Comments »
I’ve always yearned to be an advice columnist. I’m not sure how well it would work out.
Dear Mama Dean,
I want to stop yelling at my kids. It makes me feel terrible. What can I do?
Sincerely,
Guilty in Gloucester
Dear Guilty,
Keep your mouth shut.
*****
Dear Mama Dean,
My kids eat so much junk food, but I don’t know how to stop them. I know it’s not good for them, but they beg for it all the time.
Sincerely,
Flustered in Fargo
Dear Flustered,
Stop giving it to them.
*******
Dear Mama Dean,
Sometimes I feel an overwhelming sense of despair at the end of the day. It doesn’t make sense because all I do is hang out with three adorable kids, but I’d really like to improve my mood. Help!
Sincerely,
Blue in Boise
Dear Blue,
Pick one: wine, pedicure or yoga. If you’re really in a pinch, pretend you’re on Valium.
*****
Dear Mama Dean,
Hi, it’s Guilty in Gloucester again. Keep my mouth shut!? How am I supposed to do that?!
Dear Guilty,
My advice is simple, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to follow. If you need to, you can put your hand over your mouth at first. I would stay away from duct tape, though. Very tough to remove.
******
Dear Mama Dean,
My sweet child occasionally turns into a demon, usually right around 5 in the afternoon. How can I handle her without losing my mind?
Sincerely,
Challenged in Chicago
Dear Challenged,
This sounds like a job for cartoons.
*******
Dear Mama Dean,
Hello, it’s Blue in Boise again. I’ve never had Valium; can you tell me what it’s like so I can try pretending that I took some?
Dear Blue,
It’s hard to describe, so the best thing I can tell you is to ask your mom friends if they can spare one. Trust me, someone has a stash. Ask your calmest friend first.
*****
Dear Mama Dean,
I love taking my kid to the playground, but sometimes the other moms just complain nonstop. How can I get them to stop?
Sincerely,
Fed Up in Fayetteville
Dear Fed Up,
It’s called sisterhood. Look into it. One day you’ll want to enjoy its benefits.
******
Dear Mama Dean,
My child asked for green beans and then screamed at me when I gave them to him. Should I take him to the doctor?
Sincerely,
Worried in Wichita
Dear Worried,
Let me guess — your child is three. Go Google “three is the new two.” Then go buy a case of your favorite wine. You’re going to need it.
My journey to becoming a dietitian and other cool stuff
Living The Road Less Travelled
Mama-Come-Lately 