Bedtime Battle

Over the last few months our bedtime routine has slowly deteriorated into a frustrating hour of crowd control (yes, three kids qualifies as a crowd). There is yelling involved. And threats. Most of them empty because it is the end of the day and what can we take away at that point? Looking back, it pretty much started around the time Alexandra was born. The conspiracy theorist in me is pretty sure the kids have advanced strategic planning skills and they took advantage of our exhaustion and our unstable, compromised routine to take control of the evening hours. Perhaps I should be proud of their capability.

Here is what has been happening. Around the middle of dinnertime, the big sisters start to get wound up. The bathroom words creep into conversation and before we know it “pee” and “poop” are flying freely. That is phase one. Phase two involves Katherine climbing the bathroom door frame while we try to get her to brush teeth and Clara unrolling the toilet paper all over the bathroom floor. In phase three, both girls are running away from us, naked and soaking wet as we call out a mix of empty threats and pathetic bribes: “You’re using up your story time!” “Girls who put on their pjs will get two songs!” But they are beyond threats and bribes. That’s when the yelling starts. By the time we finally get them tucked in and quiet with lights out, we’re exhausted and grumpy.

We need to reestablish a bedtime routine that is calm and enjoyable. To get this back we’ve come up with a plan: separate and stagger. As soon as dinner is over one of us takes Katherine up to brush teeth, take bath, put on pjs, get into bed, read book, sing song, lights out. Clara stays downstairs to help clean up. Once Katherine is in bed, Clara comes up to brush teeth and take bath. But Clara gets her pjs, book, and song in our bedroom. Only when she is ready for sleep does she get into her bed. The lights are already out and Katherine is calm and hopefully drifting off. Two girls in bed. Quiet.

We’re still working out the kinks, for example, we haven’t quite figured out where Alexandra fits in. She needs to be bathed too. Does it happen after both big sisters are in bed? Or before? We’re not sure. But so far the new routine seems to be helping. The kids are much calmer and it doesn’t feel like a battle. We also get to enjoy time alone with each kid, which is probably what they need - and what we need. So maybe they weren’t conspiring against us. Maybe they aren’t a two-person tactical team. Maybe they were just trying to tell us it wasn’t working. And hopefully now it is.

The big sisters

Minestrone Soup

I know it is nearing the end of soup season, but we’re hanging onto this one as long as possible. It’s adapted from Vegetarian Cooking and it is simple, healthy, and good! It’s also great if you have one kid who will only eat the ingredients raw and/or separate (black beans, bell pepper, and pasta make a nice little meal for Miss. Picky).

1 tablespoon olive or vegetable oil
1 onion, chopped
1 bell pepper, chopped
4 cups broth (canned or from bouillon)
2 cans Italian stewed tomatoes
1 can beans (black or kidney), drained
1 zucchini, cut lengthwise inhale then crosswise into slices
1 cup uncooked small pasta shells
1/4 cup pesto (optional)
Shredded Parmesan cheese (optional)

1. Heat oil in large pot
2. Cook onion and pepper for a few minutes
3. Add broth, tomatoes, and beans; simmer for 5 minutes
4. Add squash and pasta; boil for 10 minutes
5. Swirl in some pesto and top with cheese

Happy Mother's Day

I am the worst at acknowledging special days like Mother’s day, anniversaries, and birthdays. Even if I remember, it’s rare that I get it together to do something for someone. In my defense, I am this way about my own important dates. I’d just as soon skip my birthday, and last month I had to ask my husband the exact date of our marriage for a form I had to fill out.

Naturally, Mother’s Day is here and I’ve done nothing. So in desperation, I thought I’d post a list of some of the wonderful things my mom has done for her children. And since she is one of my three (wait, I may be up to four) readers of this blog, I’ll count it as my “card”. I’m pretty sure this is cheating, but it beats my usual.

My mom is a wonderful role model. Her patience, her acceptance of who we are, her genuine love of all ages and stages, her creativity… But what really makes my mom amazing is that she did all this without having had a positive role model of her own. My job is a hundred times easier than hers was - all I have to do is think about what she did. But she came up with all this stuff on her own. She’ll probably try to tell me she learned from her German host mother, but really, that was only one year when she was in college and couldn’t possibly account for all she did for us when we were children.

This list* is incomplete as there are many wonderful things my mother has done with us and for us. But here are a few of my favorites. Some were little, every day things that just made life really nice and others had a significant influence on my life. I hope to be able to do these things with my children. Except for drop shot drills at 6am, I don’t think I’ll do that. Or bologna and mustard sandwiches, because that is actually pretty gross.

Thank You Mom.  Happy Mother’s Day!

*Since this list is probably only interesting to my mom and my sister, other readers (both of you) should feel free to go here (my favorite blog) to read something more interesting.

The List

Riding on the back of your bike down, down, down to Tower Road beach.

The googly eye stickers on your bike seat.

Getting picked up from preschool with Bee cat in the back seat.

Riding to preschool on a sled in the winter.

Bologna and mustard sandwiches cut out with the gingerbread man cookie cutter.

The Mugo plant in the Rosewood garden.

Riding toddle downtown.

Half birthday parties with shiny invitations made from tinfoil.

Long bike rides.

Family dinners.

Egg custard with “medicine”.

Sending me to summer camp and to Sweden.

Drop shot drills at 6am.

Driving me all around the Midwest for tennis tournaments… and listening to my music the whole time… and liking (or pretending to like) it.

Making me take French (bet you never thought I’d thank you for that one!)

Getting me out of chemistry.

Chocolate malts… and now lattes.

Making quilts.

Introducing me to When Harry Met Sally, then watching it with me dozens of times, then listening to me recite it on road trips.

Always being so kind to my friends.

Giving me just the right amount of freedom during the teenage years to keep me safe but allow me my independence (how did you ever find that perfect balance???)

My wedding flowers (I don’t remember the date but I do remember the beautiful flowers).

Six weeks in DC so I could finish my dissertation.

Reading my dissertation.

Coming with one week’s notice to help with #3.

Hand written letters.

And many, many more things.

Miscarriage, Years Later

I just read this post on miscarriage. Every time I come across someone’s story of miscarriage, it is painfully familiar…

Seven years ago I went in for my 10 week appointment, excited to see my baby’s heartbeat, a little life already so loved. But instead of pointing out a flickering light on the screen, the doctor started asking questions. When exactly had I taken a positive pregnancy test? When was the first day of my last cycle? Had I experienced any cramps? A cold silence came over the room. No one spoke as the doctor continued to search the screen. I waited, knowing with each passing second of silence that the pronouncement of loss was more and more likely. But still, I hoped against it, even as he said the words. No heartbeat. Empty sac. Missed miscarriage.

For six weeks I believed I was pregnant. Every future point I had thought about during those six weeks - my upcoming dentist appointment, presenting a report at work, the start of the new semester  - included my pregnancy. But instead of sharing my good news with the dentist as I declined x-rays, the appointment was characterized by thoughts of how I would have been 16 weeks pregnant… Every aspect of my life was tinged with this loss, I could not escape it. The sadness lasted a long time. And even now, after three children, I have not forgotten the first.

But my perspective has changed over the years. At the time, I would have given anything to have my pregnancy back. Now I wouldn’t undo the miscarriage. Partly because of the children I have today that I might not have had if that first pregnancy had worked, but it extends beyond that. The miscarriage has greatly shaped the mother I have become. When Katherine was a newborn, no matter how exhausted I was or how frequently she wanted to nurse (every two hours day and night), I felt grateful to have a baby to nurse. How would I have handled the difficult newborn days if I had not been through a miscarriage? Would I have felt irritation towards my baby instead of gratitude? When she was a little older and had to be rocked to sleep for an hour and would still start screaming as soon as I set her down,* the frustration would well up inside me. But then I’d remember how I felt when I didn’t have a crying baby to soothe and my frustration would melt away.  Would I have been able to savor rocking her to sleep if I didn’t know the devastation of miscarriage? Today, years later, I still call upon that loss to put my parenting challenges in perspective. The miscarriage does not give me infinite patience and compassion, but it does remind me that I really, really wanted to be doing this.

Now when I hear of a mother going through the grief of a miscarriage, my heart aches for her. But my own feelings of loss are gone. Only the memory of the loss remains, and it is a memory I am grateful to have. I think it makes me a better parent.

*Never take sleep advice from me.

Curative Story: Eating healthy food

Once upon a time there was a bird called Anna bird. She lived in a tree with her Mama bird, Daddy bird, and big sister, Millie bird. Anna bird loved to fly through the air and hop from rock to rock by the stream. She loved to splash in puddles and bathe in the fountain. But she did not like to eat seeds, and that is what her Mama and Daddy bird gave her for dinner every day. Seeds.

One day Anna bird looked at her plate and saw a big pile of seeds. “Ehh,” she said, “I don’t like seeds.” “Anna bird,” replied Mama bird, “seeds are good for you, they help you to grow.” “But I don’t like them. They don’t taste good,” whined Anna bird. Daddy bird said, “Little birds who eat all their seeds grow strong wings and long, soft feathers.” “And little birds who eat all their seeds can fly very high and very fast,” added her Mama.

Anna bird looked at the seeds. She wanted to be able to fly very high and very fast. So one by one she ate all the seeds on her plate. When she was done, she smiled. “There! I ate all my seeds. Soon I will be able to fly way up high and very fast.” And the very next day Anna bird went flying through the air… a little higher and a little faster than she had the day before.

No-need Time

I don’t enjoy playing with my kids. I know, it’s one of those things you aren’t supposed to feel, let alone admit, but I don’t. I used to feel guilty about this, that I felt restless and bored whenever I sat down to play cars or dolls. I would see other moms having so much fun playing with their kids… surely they loved their kids more than I loved mine, or at the very least they were better moms.

Then at a parent evening at Katherine’s school, while a bunch of parents were trading stories about all the wonderful play they enjoy with their kids, I felt a wave of irritation, no doubt stemming from a sense of inadequacy, and blurted out that I don’t like playing with my kids. To my surprise, the teacher smiled and nodded, as if this was quite common. “That is because you are not two years old,” she said. As this soaked in, the teacher went on to say it is ok to not enjoy playing with your kids and more than that, it is ok to not play with them. They don’t need us to play with them; being present doesn’t mean being their age-equivalent playmate. Relief washed over me. I did love my kids! I was a good mom - or at least not a bad mom due to not wanting to play with them. This revelation was very freeing for me. I didn’t have to spend my days making traffic jams, diapering dolls, and coloring. I could enjoy not playing with them.

Don’t get me wrong, I love spending time with my kids. I love listening to their chatter. I love seeing what they create. I love watching them play. As long as I am peripheral. In fact, I think my being peripheral changes the nature of their play in a good way. Remember the joy of being totally absorbed in a make-believe land? Dressing up and playing house in a fort built out of couch cushions and blankets? Or gathering grasses and weeds to mix into a muddy concoction that was really a stew to feed your baby bunny (aka, your little sister)?  Remember how there were no adults watching (sometimes unfortunately for your little sister)? I remember this freedom, the space to create a land that only a child can create. A land adults cannot be part of. Staying peripheral gives my kids this space.

But just because I had made peace with the fact that I didn’t have to play with Katherine didn’t mean she had made peace with it. She was used to my half-assed participation in building traffic jams. I had to reset the standard. Her teacher suggested I set aside some time each day where neither of us needed the other. No-need time. At first, no-need time only lasted 10-15 minutes. But slowly Katherine got used to it and we had longer and longer stretches. Now no-need time is part of our daily rhythm and both Katherine and Clara seem to appreciate it. We can spend a morning together, each of us doing our own thing, sometimes coming together in order for me to try a sip of pretend chai that has been prepared in their kitchen, or to change the murky paint water. It is relaxing, fulfilling time together. It is peaceful.

If you happen to be thinking, wow, independent kids who are capable of going about their day with only minimal effort on my part, I assure you that is not the case. I do dress them, feed them, clean them, take them on outings, and all the other standard stuff. And, I’m still envious of those parents who genuinely like playing with their kids… they share something with their kids that I don’t and relate to them in a way that I can’t. But at least now when my kids try to get me to play with them, I can say no. Guilt-free.

(Sometimes this happens during no-need time. But never ever in the late afternoon hours when I need to make dinner.)

Go in and out the window (Book)

Go In and Out the Window: An Illustrated Songbook For Children

All the credit goes to my mom on this one. We had this book growing up and now I use it all the time to sing to the kids. The preface describes the book as having “examples of each genre of childhood music: nursery songs, ballads, play songs, lullabies, folk songs, spirituals, and work songs, plus a sprinkling of patriotic music.” Each song is presented with artwork from the The Metropolitan Museum of Art, along with an excerpt about the art, the song and the era. A nice combination of art, music, and history. Our favorites: Billy Boy, Greensleeves, Lavender’s Blue, Oats, Peas, and Beans, Shenandoah, and Simple Gifts.

It goes wonderfully with A Treasury of Children’s Songs (again, thanks to my mom). That way if you can’t read music very well, even after some 10 years of cello and flute lessons, you can listen to the songs and learn them that way.

Curative story: Tantrum-free park departures

Once upon a time there was a bunny and her name was Molly bunny. She lived in the forest with her mama bunny and her daddy bunny. Molly bunny loved to play with her friend Agoo the chipmunk. They loved to go to the play tree together and chase each other around the tree in circles, dig holes in the dirt, and jump from root to root.

One day Molly bunny and Agoo were playing chase around the tree. They played for a long, long time. When Molly bunny’s mama called to her, “Molly bunny, time to go home now,” Molly bunny didn’t want to leave, she was having too much fun. So she ran around to the other side of the tree and hid. “Molly bunny,” called her mama, “it is time to go home now. Please come now.” But Molly bunny stayed behind the tree, hiding. Finally, Molly bunny’s mama came around the tree, scooped up Molly bunny and took her home. “You need to come with me when it is time to go home. Bunnies who don’t listen to their mamas don’t get to go to the play tree,” said Mama bunny.

The next day, Molly bunny asked, “Mama, can we go to the play tree today?” “I’m sorry Molly bunny, but we can’t go today. Last time you didn’t come with me when it was time to leave.” “But I really want to go!” cried Molly bunny.  “We can try again tomorrow, but today we stay at home and play,” replied her mama. Molly bunny was sad. She wanted to go play with Agoo at the play tree.

The next day, Molly bunny asked again, “Mama, can we go to the play tree today?” “Yes,” said Mama bunny, “today we can go to the play tree, but you must come with me when I tell you it is time to leave.”  “Ok, I will,” said Molly bunny. Molly bunny and Agoo played for a long time, running around the tree, digging in the dirt, and jumping from root to root. And when Molly bunny’s mama called out, “Molly bunny, time to go home now,” Molly bunny hopped right over to her mama. Together they hopped home happily.

Angela's Chocolate

This chocolate recipe comes from Angela. It is fun and easy to make, so easy that it is not annoying to have kids help out. But don’t be fooled by the natural and wholesome sounding ingredients ( “raw cacao powder”,  “agave”, “coconut oil”), this recipe is not good for you. Well, it is good in the sense that cacao and coconut oil have some good qualities, but it is high in fat and calories. But it is really good and worth it.



1 cup coconut oil (if solid, I warm it in a saucepan until just melted)
1/4 cup agave (raw) sweetener
3/4 cup raw cacao powder
2 teaspoons vanilla

Line a 9x12 pan with saran wrap. Whisk ingredients together until thoroughly blended (I usually mix for several minutes, giving each kid a good long turn). Pour mix into pan and spread over whole pan - the more thinly it is spread the better. Freeze for an hour, then break into pieces. Store in fridge or freezer.

Toys for Thought

I am a snob when it comes to toys. The worst kind of snob, because not only am I one of those I-only-let-my-kids-play-with-wooden-toys parents*, but I make sure everyone around me knows it. I am sure I offend, or at the very least, irritate a lot of people with this attitude. But snobbery notwithstanding, I have given a lot of thought to why I insist on wooden toys. If my attitude stems from well thought-out opinions, even if others don’t share those opinions, then it’s (I’m) not quite as annoying, right? So here is my attempt to share why I feel the way I do about wooden toys.

The first reason has to do with a connection to nature. In my opinion, our culture puts up walls to separate us from nature, from structures that keep out wind, sun, and, rain, to appliances that neutralize natural temperature variation (i.e., my house growing up was always 68 degrees, no matter what the weather outside). I feel we are disconnected from nature. Wooden toys (or toys from any natural material - wool, cotton, etc.) offer contact with our natural environment. It is a way to bring nature through the walls we’ve built and into our homes. Plastic toys feel like another component of the barrier between children and nature.

The second reason comes from an explanation a teacher once gave during a parent discussion group. She made an analogy between toys and food. Food is nourishment, it allows us to grow and develop. The more natural and wholesome the food, the more nutritious it is. The more processed the food, the less nutritious it is. Toys are the same, nourishment for the mind and imagination, with natural toys being healthier than processed, artificial toys.

That is not to say I am anti-plastic. Although I do like bringing natural materials into my home for the whole nature connection thing, there is another component that tends to go with plastic toys, and that is complexity. I love the expression, “Toys should be 10% toy and 90% child”, meaning, children should have to do the work of making a toy what it is. For example, a red fire engine with a ladder, flashing lights and a nice, loud siren can only be a fire engine. It leaves no room for imagination. A simple block on wheels can be a fire engine, a police car, a roller skate, a doll sled, and on and on and on. In other words, the more a toy does, the less the child does. Plastic toys tend to be quite complex. I don’t really have anything against simple plastic toys.

I don’t know if any of this matters; children find a way to play no matter what they have or don’t have. But at the very least, I do know that sticking to wooden toys makes for a much quieter house, and for me, quiet house = sanity = better mom. That alone is reason enough to deprive my kids of noisy, plastic toys.

*I don’t actually only let my kids only play with wooden toys. Legos. Magna-tiles. Bath toys. Balls. And more. I guess that makes me an even worse kind of snob: a poser snob.

Ox-Cart Man (Book)

Katherine’s kindergarten teacher introduced us to Ox-Cart Man, by Donald Hall. It is a wonderful book about children helping out in the home, each having his or her “job”. It is a simple story and paints a beautiful picture about a family working together through the year. We have used this book to help introduce new chores for Katherine.

Grandfather Twilight (Book)

Grandfather Twilight, by Barbara Berger, is a wonderful bedtime story. Ms. Christine introduced it to us, and, like Ms. Christine, it has a peaceful, calming effect on children (and parents).

Also, the artwork is beautiful.

 

Curative story: Sharing

Once upon a time there was a bird called Anna bird. She lived in a tree with her mama bird, daddy bird, and big sister, Millie bird. Anna bird loved to fly from branch to branch and land on the greenest leaf she could fine. One day, Anna bird and Millie bird were flying around in their tree. They both landed on the same green leaf at the same time. “My leaf!” said Anna bird. “No, MY leaf!” cried Millie bird. They both wanted the same leaf but only one of them would fit on it. Anna bird looked around and saw another green leaf, just as beautiful as the one she was on. She jumped up and flew over to it, and landed softly. “Helloooo over there Millie bird!”, she tweeted to her sister. “Hellloooo!” Millie bird tweeted back with a big smile. The two sisters tweeted back and forth happily all afternoon, each on her own green leaf.

Curative Story: Loud Shrill Voice

Once upon a time there was a bunny and her name was Molly bunny. She lived in the forest with her mama bunny and her daddy bunny. Every morning when she woke up she hopped out of bed and ran outside to play. Molly bunny loved to sing and she always sang in a loud, clear voice. One morning, bright and early, she hopped outside and started singing one of her favorite morning songs. “Good morning, good morning!” As she sang she noticed a chipmunk peek out of his home, rubbing his eyes and yawing. The chipmunk did not look happy. Then she saw a squirrel scowling down from his tree branch. A deer rustled in the woods, she too looked unhappy. Molly bunny continued signing in her loud clear voice, but she wondered why all the animals seemed so grumpy. Just then her mama came out. “Shhhhh! Molly bunny, all of the animals in the forest are still sleeping. They are not ready to wake up and your signing is waking them. If you want to sing you need to find a quiet voice.” Molly bunny looked around and sure enough all the animals seemed sleepy. She quieted her voice down so that only someone right next to her could hear her song. The deer smiled and closed her eyes, the squirrel settled back down on his branch, and the chipmunk disappeared back into his home, yawning again. Molly bunny tiptoed through the forest, singing quietly. Everyone was content.

One kid, two kid, old kid, new kid

Since Alexandra arrived, people have asked me what the transition from two to three is like, if it is the similar to the transition from one to two. In my experience, the transition to each child has been different.

When Katherine was born, I had no idea who she was and it was a complete life change to have a baby in our home. I loved her even before she came out, but it was a primal type of love, an overwhelming need to protect her and care for her. It was only looking back after a few months, a year, two years that I realized the “new-born love” was different from the love that had deepened so much over time.

When I was pregnant with Clara, I wondered if I would truly love her as much as I loved Katherine. I knew Katherine, I had no idea who this new baby would be. Of course I loved Clara right away as I loved Katherine right away, but being the second child, it was different. Katherine was so familiar to me and she was also all I knew when it came to babies. And Clara wasn’t Katherine, so Clara seemed unfamiliar. Again, though in a different way, it took time for our bond to grow, but it did. However, an aspect of going from one to two that I was unprepared for was the sense of loss of no longer having an only child. My close bond with Katherine was disrupted and I wondered if we would ever find that closeness again (we did). On top of that, I felt guilty that I felt a loss with the arrival of the new baby. I suppose there is something very special about the first baby, something a mother doesn’t have time to savor with subsequent children. But seeing the relationship Katherine and Clara have as sisters far outweighs the sense of loss I felt at the beginning.

The transition from two to three has been entirely different. Having been through wondering if I would love #2 as I loved #1, I never doubted that I would love #3 just as much. I also didn’t feel any sense of loss, I knew the big sisters would (eventually) love having a new sibling. I had strategies for dealing with sibling jealousy. And I trusted that #3 was meant to be a part of our family in the same way Katherine and Clara were meant to be. With those uncertainties out of the way, Alexandra has eased right into our family. The challenge this time has been almost exclusively logistical. How do we do bath and bedtime with three kids and two parents? How do I prepare lunch for two hungry kids, change a blow out, nurse a screaming baby, and break up fights between the big sisters all at the same time? And why does the cat chose this moment to puke up the rubber bands someone must have left out on the counter? What do I deal with first? These paralyzing moments are my challenge now.

I have heard that any big family transition takes one year. I would say that is true. So by next February I should have the three-kid thing figured out.

Oatmeal honey cookies

This recipe was adapted from The Petit Appetit Cookbook. The kiddos love when we make them with chocolate chips, but they are just as good with raisins.

1/2 cup butter
1/3 cup honey
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 heaping cup whole wheat flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1 heaping cup rolled oats
1/2 - 1 cup dark chocolate chips or raisins

Preheat oven to 350F.

Cream butter and honey, add egg and vanilla. In a separate bowl, mix flour, baking soda, salt and cinnamon. Stir wet and dry ingredients together until just combined. Add oats and chocolate chips (or raisins).

Spoon cookies onto baking sheet and bake for 10-12 minutes.