Girl Detective

Heh heh.

19

Created by OnePlusYou

(Link from Mommy Tracks)

So how is it that I can’t manage my not-quite 5yo and my 2yo?

I was vacuuming the basement yesterday when 4yo Drake and 2yo Guppy lost interest and ran off. I heard them laughing. Then I smelled something, and went running.

They had gone into my husband G. Grod’s office; Drake had been spraying Guppy and the floor with Endust for electronics. Drake’s shirt and Guppy’s hair were wet with cleaner. I yelled about poison. I mopped. They cried. I tried to get them out of the office; they refused. G. Grod yelled, and I hustled the boys upstairs for an unplanned bath with shampoo.

While Guppy was in the bath, Drake played with the cord on the window blinds, putting it around his neck. While Drake was in the bath, Guppy grabbed, opened and spilled the bottle of baby shampoo. They’d really learned their lesson, no?

I sometimes think it’s largely luck if children survive to adulthood. There are things we can do to help them along (like putting toxic cleaners up high, or not having them in house; sigh), but the world is dangerous and kids are curious, a dangerous conjunction.

2yo Guppy woke screaming the other day at 4am, angrily yelling, “But _I_ wanted to take off my sandals, Mama! Not YOU!” I gave him some water and a pat, and we went back to sleep.

Next day, 4am. This time, Guppy hollering, “I wanted my milk, but YOU poured it out, Mama!” Water, pat, sleep.

This morning he woke at 5:45am, but not screaming. I told him it wasn’t time to get up. Water, pat, sleep.

I fear for our future relationship, if Guppy is going to clutch each day’s little injustices till they induce nightmares.

Remember a few weeks ago when I celebrated a mother’s trifecta? Well, yesterday’s good fortune went on from there. Uninterrupted night’s sleep; hot coffee and pastry for breakfast; time to read in peace; kids playing independently so I could practice yoga; a double espresso (our machine’s still in the shop. Sigh) on the way to the park/pool; kids left pool without a fight; nap, reading and writing time; grilled Caesar, Duck confit and grilled duck on a date with my husband at St. Paul’s new Strip Club; browsing at the bookstore without buying; excellent chocolate desserts from Nick and Eddie’s excellent pastry chef. It was lovely.

Then last night was interrupted by 2yo Guppy crying for water in the wee small hours, and he was awake before 6am demanding love, attention and books. And today’s trip to the pool involved fights on either end. So life is more like usual. But yesterday was really great.

It’s 4yo Drake, growing up. He has a handful of bedtime friends from when he was an infant: Mouton, a sheep blankie; Daisy and Duckie, stuffed ducks; Googly Fish; and Snake, from Ikea. When he was three, during what I thought of as his age of imagination, he would fashion a car out of the snake, put the other animals inside, then say he was going in the friends’ car to the friends’ house to play.

In a recent swirl of tidying, I picked Mouton off the floor, held her up and said, “Drake, Mouton belongs in bed, not on the floor. The floor hurts her back.”

“Mom,” he said gravely. “Mouton is a _stuffed animal_. She doesn’t have feelings.”

I paused as the emotional wind got knocked out of me, then tried again.

“Even if she’s a pretend sheep, then she has pretend feelings, right?”

“OK,” Drake replied, then grabbed the sheep and tossed her on the bed.

It’s funny and sad to see a stage about to end. It always feels like certain things will go on forever, until they don’t. Interestingly, 2yo Guppy is getting picky about his loveys just as Drake has become less interested in his. Today Guppy had a brachiosaurus jump on my head while I did yoga, insisted on Snuffles the bear and Binky the triceratops in his crib for naptime, and let the pigeon pick out books to read.

May and June mark several personal anniversaries:

10 years ago: I moved to Minnesota and met friends Big Brain and Blogenheimer, and the future Mrs. Blogeheimer.
8 years ago, I began practicing yoga. Still can’t do a headstand or crow pose–8 years of humility.
6 years ago I started blogging, after my friend M. Giant told me about his blog, Velcrometer.
4 years ago, I resigned from my job to stay home with my son Drake, who’ll be 5yo in August.

All good things.

As our family has muddled through SIX WEEKS of viruses, I’ve turned to the parenting tool of PBS kids tv many times. We’ve found several shows that the boys like and I either like too, or at least don’t mind.

Sesame Street: A classic. I can’t stand that elephant, and Zoe and her pet rock, Rocco, are pretty annoying, but other than that we all enjoy the show. I like seeing the celebrities and hearing Cookie monster sneaking in a big word of the day, like esoteric or lachrymose.

SuperWhy: I don’t much care for it, but 4yo Drake really loves it, and intereracts and practices his reading.

WordWorld: Both 2yo Guppy and Drake enjoy this, and really like the characters. Plus that Build-a-Word song is really catchy.

WordGirl: This vocabulary show is a bit above Drake’s head, but he likes the cartoon about the city-saving girl superhero, as do I–it reminds me of the dear, departed Tick cartoon.

Fetch with Ruff Ruffman: Again, I think some of this goes over Drake’s head, but the cartoon parts are quite funny, and the kid parts are interesting.

Have we ever watched all five shows in a day, for a whopping total of three hours of TV? Yup. We’ve all been sick, the weather’s been crap. This is yet another one of those humbling parental admissions. I’m sure at some point in the past I said superciliously, “I’d NEVER use TV as a babysitter. I’d never let my kids watch hours of TV at a time.” Well, once again, my “I Never” has come to pass, and I’ve been knocked down a peg. One of the many lessons I’ve learned in parenting: Those “I Nevers” come back to haunt me. Or rather, taunt me.

Well, our little family is either on our third virus in 5 weeks, or on the third version and second iteration of the virus we got at the beginning of May. Either way, we’ve been sick since then, and can’t seem to get enough rest to kick it. I’ll spare you the unpleasant details. Supplements and vitamins haven’t done doodly squat. I feel like we’re the Schleprock family, with a little raincloud following us about. I’m bitter, cranky (even more so than I usually am!) and hope this is the final round till virus season begins again in October.

Joseph Epstein, at the Weekly Standard, is concerned about what he sees as a shift to a child-centered society (link from Art and Letters Daily):

Children have gone from background to foreground figures in domestic life, with more and more attention centered on them, their upbringing, their small accomplishments, their right relationship with parents and grandparents. For the past 30 years at least, we have been lavishing vast expense and anxiety on our children in ways that are unprecedented in American and in perhaps any other national life. Such has been the weight of all this concern about children that it has exercised a subtle but pervasive tyranny of its own. This is what I call Kindergarchy

Epstein argues that the centrality of children in a family does no favors to the parents, who become “indentured servants”, or the children, who become sheltered and need constant entertainment and gratification.

While there’s something of the “I walked to school ten miles in the driving snow when I was a kid,” about Epstein’s argument, I’ve been thinking a lot about this, since I stay home with my 2 and 4 year old sons. My house is dirty, my laundry piles up, and my yard is a weed mecca. This is because the boys are not only not helpful to the housekeeping, but actively detrimental. And out of guilt, or fatigue, I don’t always press my point. Yet why shouldn’t children facilitate and participate in the housekeeping? Cleaning, cooking, laundry and yardwork are good, honest work. And making a neat, orderly, presentable home is a fine ideal. They may seem less intellectual than a museum visit or a music class, but they provide ample opportunities for learning and exercise.

Added later: Mental Multivitamin wrote about the Kindergarchy piece, too.

This morning I scored a mother’s trifecta:

1. Uninterrupted night of sleep
2. Time to myself in the morning to read
3. Got to drink my coffee and eat my pastry while they were still hot

It was great, and I was grateful. Funny, the things I used to take for granted.

Last night at dinner:

Me: Drake, you didn’t eat your tater tots.

Drake: I DID! You gave me five. Now there are four. I ate ONE!

He’s on his way to algebra, as long as he can frame the problem with fried potatoes.

One element of the Three Bears story always bothered me–why were the bowls of porridge three different temperatures? Last week, during my umpteenth reading of some version, a few possibilities occurred to me.

Mother Bear’s porridge could be cold because she served herself first, and sat down to eat last. I find this the likeliest explanation, having experienced this scenario many times. Additionally, she could have been on a diet, and given herself a small portion compared to that of Papa Bear, whose large size would demand a large portion, which would take longer to cool. Perhaps the bears were very poor, and Mama Bear was sacrificing her own portion to feed her child and husband. In both the latter examples, Baby Bear would probably get the medium amount of porridge, which would then be cooler than Papa’s, and warmer than Mama’s.

I do wonder how my reading changes when this type of musing takes up part of my brain. Do the boys notice the difference between Mom being fully present reading a story, and Mom struggling to suss out the subtexts while still reading aloud?

Our little family is still in the throes of last week’s nasty virus. Right now, I’m thankful for Jello, PBS kids shows, and magazines.

My sister Ruthie sent me a card with this message for Mothers Day, and it’s so true. Today I’ve cleaned up vomit, diarrhea, and snot, none of which was mine. This is not a glamour gig.

But there are compensations, however brief, like the snuggling of a small, warm head against my shoulder while we read three new finds from the used bookstore:

The Guest by James Marshall
Fox, Outfoxed by James Marshall
Minnie and Moo: Night of the Living Bed by Denys Cazet

For myself, I was delighted to find a slipcased set of Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights by the Misses Charlotte and Emily Bronte, with engravings by Fritz Eichenberg. From 1945, they’re fragile, but lovely to look at. They’ll display nicely on my recently created Bronte/Austen shelf, and bring me much bookish geekjoy.

Minnesota Governor Pawlenty vetoed the Safe Baby Products & Deca Flame retardant bills yesterday.

I try not to think what they coat those flame-retardent kid pajamas with. I mostly buy the snug fitting ones for Drake and Guppy. My mom and sister call them “sausage suits”; they are, indeed, snug.

Seriously, how can he veto something called Safe Baby Products and sleep at night?

1. 2yo Guppy demands something impossible, like mac and cheese that isn’t cooked, or complains when he’s given something he asked for, like milk, since what he really wanted was orange juice.

2. I say no; Guppy begins to scream and tears spurt from his eyes.

3. 4yo Drake covers his ears and yells, “Ow, ow, he’s hurting my ears!”

4. I calmly tell Drake to leave the room. He refuses and begins screaming to drown out Guppy.

5. I lose my mind. Then _I_ leave the room till I can think again.

6. Lather, rinse, repeat.

People tell me that ages 5/7 are when it gets easier. I can but hope.

Last week, another mom and I were congratulating each other on making/taking time for a shower.

“I have to remind myself,” she said, “a shower is not a privilege. It’s a SOCIAL CONTRACT.”

Amen, sister.

This seems like a no brainer, right? Yet I challenge any parent to maintain 24/7 supervision of their child, especially when there’s more than one of them and only one of you.

Here are a few recent adventures in brief, unsupervised time:

“Butt Machine” 4yo Drake found this music video on Youtube when G. Grod left the room. And continues to repeat the phrase at random.

Water, water, everywhere: I chose to fold the laundry, since the boys sounded as if they were playing happily upstairs. They were indeed happy, having gotten water on all four bathroom walls and 1/8″ deep on floor. They were given timeouts and told to never play in the sink again. Yeah, right. Silver lining: the bathroom floor got a wet mop that it otherwise wouldn’t have.

Wha’ happened? I left the boys on the backyard swingset while I went inside to start dinner. Next time I checked, they were gone–out the yard and down the street. We now have padlocks on two of the three backyard gates.

and sisters, and aunts, and grandmothers, and all those who will be, or want to be, and anyone who has ever taken care of another:

May this day bring moments of peace and joy, as well as a cessation, however brief, in the neediness of others.

From a friend, via Clean Water Action

Minnesotans, please give Governor Pawlenty’s office a quick call and let him know you want him to support the SAFE BABY PRODUCTS legislation. His number is: 651-296-3391.

It has safely made it out of conference committee with the phthalates language intact. Unfortunately, the Bis-Phenol A language was removed as a compromise. We expect the legislation to be on the Governor’s desk by Thursday or Friday. The American Chemistry Council has been lobbying hard so we are concerned the Governor may oppose all or some of the bill — so your support really matters.

You can simply say, “Please ask Governor Pawlenty to support the Safe Baby Products Bill for the well-being of Minnesota’s children. Thank you for your consideration.”